The House of Red And Black Part Two

Hello, good friends! Here we have reached the end of another week. It looks like you all are in need of a story that can distract you from the grinds of your day. No matter how big or small, this blog and these posts are here to help you find a small slice of distraction and peace.

If you missed last week's post or if you a here for the first time (welcome!), but you may want to take a step back and start with part one: The House of Red and Black Part 1. 

For the rest of you, enjoy! 

The House of Red and Black

Part 2

The red dress of Lady Farcey swiveled the clouds into independent puffs as she crossed the way. Her eyes were sharply locked on the humble home of Lord Night. Of all the occupants in the land, he was by far the most humble, regardless of class. The shack in which he lived was simple, bare even, save for the thick grey curtains that swayed in the gentle breeze. These were the most important detail of the house, according to Lord Night. It was because of these curtains that he was able to sleep. They blocked out all light from the sun, which was handy for a soul who slept from sun-up to sun-down. It was then when his duties of setting up the sunset’s twilight colors and igniting the stars began. It was a heavy toll being Lord Night, but he was happy for the work, so long as he could sleep during the day. Otherwise, the people on the world below were in for a rough night.

The key to the dawn weigh heavy in Lady Farcey’s pocket. Being caught in the home of Lord Night was an offense so dyer that the punishment for which was unbearable. Even though Lady Farcey knew that she possessed the stealth and the wisdom to pass through unnoticed, these thoughts did little to assuage her nearly shot nerves.

With the delicacy of a seasoned thief, Lady Farcey opened the front door but a crack. She slipped inside.

Darkness greeted her. Lady Farcey inhaled deeply and kept her eyes wide. She knew that a minute or two would need to pass for eyes to adjust. The darkness did not terrify her half as much as the thought of being caught. This time passed like skin over sandpaper. Eventually, slowly, almost painfully, her eyes began to make out shadows, then sharper forms. She released the breath that had been burning in her lungs.

“Why could this not have waited until Lord Night was awake?” she wondered as she inched towards the only other door within the shack, behind which Lord Night slumbered. “Why did Covetina send me in here to do this deed?”

Lady Farcey’s red skirt touched the base of the closed door. Her heart was pounding. Her breath shook.

Her hand reached out for the brass knob, but she did not have a chance. 

The front door crashed open. 

A torturous blast of white light flooded the room, blinding Lady Farcey, dropping her to her knees. Her eyes burned through to the back of her head from the pain.

“There she is!” the cold, cruel voice of the wicked Covetina screeched. 

“Farcey!” a deep, thunderous male voice shouted.

Lady Farcey’s heart and stomach dropped. Covetina had brought the king.

“HOW DARE YOU DEFY ME!” the king billowed. There was no fear of the king waking Lord Night as the door was as tightly sealed as any vice - no noise from the outside world would penetrate that aperture.

Lady Farcey could not yet clearly see the king, but she was pleading with eyes full of tears for him to listen to her explain. But the king’s mind had long been won by the poisoned words of the wicked Covetina. All he heard was the voice of his seductress playing his actions like a master puppeteer. “Lady Farcey, you know better than most the laws of our kingdom and yet here you stand in blatant defiance of our laws. Damn you, Lady Farcey, I damn you to the House of Black!”

Through her eyes blurred from tears and from the adjustment to the light, Lady Farcey could just begin to see the cruel smile of Covetina. The purpose of this woman's plot was clear to Lady Farcey at last; it had been in the wicked woman's plan the entire time to trap Lady Farcey as until this point she was the only woman that could dare to stand between Covetina and the king.

Lady Farcey did not have the chance to feel the knife within her back before a gale-strength rush of wind swept into the humble home and overtook the weeping Lady Farcey, concealing her and everything around her in black.

~*~*~

Every resident of the Kingdom in the Clouds attended Sunday's mass with the exception of Lord Night. He alone was allowed to miss the words of God as he was the closest with the greatest deity. 

In order to keep the classes of the kingdoms separated, the House of Red took the seats on the left and right of the forward saloon. The Regulars filled the many aisles in the enormous brightly lit, white marble cathedral. In the fullest reach of the church sat the members of the House of Black. There were less than one hundred seated here. Many could not stand the shame, finding their fates worse than death. They were the first to walk in to mass and the last to leave. This way, all could see their faces, further building their shame. 

There was one spot in the church that was the grim pinnacle of shame. It stood square before the altar. The royal box beside the altar was able to look down upon the pair of chairs where the two worst offenders against their society were planted. This was where the fallen queen in her robes of black sat. Her head remained high, for her elegance never died. However, behind the glass of her eyes one could see that the same could not be said of her pride.

Mass commenced promptly at 8am. For the most part the parishioners arrived early to drop their donations in the coffers to light their candles. The colors of the brightly burning candles corresponded with the colors of the Houses. The candles of the Regulars ran with wax of white, the House of Red and Black sweat similarly. Three tall pillars were illuminated every Sunday at the back of the cathedral with these burning wicks. Two attendants of the Regulars' class kept an eye on the burning candles and helped to light the candles for the donors. 

At first when the last parishioner to enter the church made her donation of a penny to the jar to pay for her candle, nothing seemed awry. She wore her lovely black dress and as such reached for her black candle. 

"Here you are, ma'am," the attendant kindly said, but as soon as his eyes met the face of the woman in black, his hand dropped the black candle onto the white clothed table. He could not believe what his eyes were plainly telling him was the truth.

The other attendant heard the candle drop and rushed over to see if a lit candle had fallen, but she too was taken aback upon seeing this woman's face. 

In the background, the beautiful and dramatic opening hymn began to hum out from the church's attendees.

Not wanting to be terribly late, the woman in black calmly picked up her candle and respectfully lit the wick using the flames of candles from her new house. With her well known gentility, she delicately placed the burning candle alongside its bright brothers and sisters. She made eye contact with the two attendants, with not a hint of shame on her face.

She turned to take the long walk to the front of the church where she knew she belonged.

With long, graceful strides, she walked down the aisle of the church. Though the musicians continued to strum and play their morning hymnal, whispers immediately began to break the beautiful tune. People could not believe what they were seeing. Surely this elegant woman in black was a hallucination. 

With her head held high, the woman who nearly stopped the entire church procession, stepped forward and into the pillar to sit where she belonged, beside the shamed former queen.

The former queen Antionetta looked upon her company with awe, confusion and fear. 'No,' the former queen thought painfully. 'What madness must have occurred to bring this sweet soul here?'

Lady Farcey saw the expression and the pain in the queen's face, but her own continued to hold a stoic look of pride. Yes, she was in black, but she knew that her part in this plot was not over yet. Lady Farcey looked to the Royal box and stared directly at the king and Covetina. They looked at her dumbly, snickering as if they were adolescents who had played a cruel prank upon an undeserving enemy. Their childish cruelty was of no consequence for Lady Farcey. She sat in the stiff, wooden throne of shame alongside the former queen. 

Music and whispers blend together in the chapel, but Lady Farcey heard none of it. In one, graceful swoop, she looked to the former queen and through the intense gaze of her eyes said, "We shall have revenge."

~*~*~

What will happen next?!?!?!

Well folks, if you are at the edge of your seat and you can't wait to see what happens next, I'm in need of YOUR help to finish the story. That's right, as a starving writer, my craft and your escape needs support. Here's how YOU can help!

Click on this link paypal.me/SFaxon to raise our goal of $100 by October 3. What?! A hundred dollars in a week? That's nothing. I have full faith that we will reach our goal in a week. I will be posting DAILY updates to keep you informed on how we are doing.

Now, you must be wondering, what will you get in return for your contribution? Allow me to explain:

$1 -$19 will receive thank you emails from me.

$20-40 will receive hand written thank you notes and have their first names/Twitter feeds mentioned as demonstrations of my gratitude on Twitter.

$41-75 will receive all the above and a surprise gift.

$76-100 will receive all of the above, including the surprise gift, AND a never before read Sonnet written by yours truly.

If you make a gift please leave your name and email on Paypal so that I may contact you directly.

Your contributions help this author know that people my craft is helping to make your days more bright. That message is one that authors like me appreciate the most.

I'll see you soon, dear readers, and I thank you in advance for your support in this Fall Fundraising Campaign!

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

@readingescape

The House of Red and Black

Good evening, my dear readers,

I've got a short story for you! I hope your weeks have been filled with fantastic events and that you don't require too much distraction, but if so, here you go! Enjoy

The House of Red and Black

In the kingdom in the clouds there were three classes of society: the Regulars, those who comprised the working classes – the maids, the bakers, the candlestick makers; then there was the House of Red, the upper echelons that held their heads up with pride and were regarded with great respect; then there was the House of Black, those who were shamed. Only the greatest of offenses marked one as a wearer of black and thus it was with great scandal that one of the highest regarded members of the Red fell from grace and was forced to dawn the Devil’s blanc.

Margaret Farcey, a lady of the House of Red was adored by those around her. She was a gentle soul with mercy and care as the rules that governed her life. The people in the kingdom often came to her for advice, for she was wise. Regardless the situation or the class, she would play as mediator to the issues that afflicted their hearts. She never turned a trouble away, which proved to be the spark of her demise.

On a clear, sun filled day, Covetina, the squeeze of the King came to the open door of Lady Farcey. 

As soon as Covetina’s red dress breezed through Margaret’s doorway, a feeling of dread fell upon the lady. Covetina was known to be cruel and viciously jealous. Great scandal came upon the clouds when she stole the throne from their previous queen, who now sat front and center in the great hall dressed in robes of black.

Yet, Margaret’s heart was pure and her intent was to bring counsel to any and all who crossed her path. ‘Perhaps she has come to seek reprieve,’Lady Farcey thought greenly. 

“Come in, Covetina,” Margaret welcomed. “Come in from the clouds and tell me your tales.”

A smile of intrigue passed across Covetina’s face. She knew that her king had often come to seek the counsel of this woman. He trusted her more than he did any other soul in the expanse of the skies. She would be perfect for this task. “My dear, Lady Farcey,” Covetina slowly walked through Margaret’s square room, touching all the objects within as if sizing each up to be bartered. “I have a request that only you could see through,” Covetina spoke in whispers. The Regulars believed she did this to conceal her lies and deceit from the blind yet ever watching king. “I have been entrusted by the Keeper of the Sun with the key to the dawn.” She pulled out from the pocket between her breasts a small, black object. The skeleton key had on its back the symbol of the dawn – a bursting sun.   

   

This was not news. Only last week the Regulars had been talking non-stop about the Keeper’s poor form of trusting this wicked woman with the key. The world below depended on the door to the dawn being opened every day for their life to be whole and complete. To trust this horrible woman with this chore was as poor as the king’s to choose her as his future bride.

Lady Farcey was concerned where this could head and yet she was hopeful. If Covetina passed this duty on to her, she could correct a possibly terrible situation. But, with Covetina, there was always a catch. Covetina never gave anything that did not return something of greater value. Taking a deep, calming breath, Margaret cautiously asked, “Pray tell, dear lady, what it is you require?” 

Covetina knew that Lady Farcey was sharp. Persuading her could prove to be an exhilarating challenge.“Well you likely know that I am a child of the wind. I am flighty and blissfully distracted. I have no business with the key to the dawn. That is why I give it to you,” she paused, waiting, for a reaction. But Lady Farcey was far too poised to be betrayed by so much as a blink. Finding the woman to be a tad irritating, Covetina continued, “You also know as well as I that the only soul responsible enough to take on this duty is Lord Night, but he sleeps during the day and it is forbidden for his slumber to be disturbed, so a clamoring wayward child like me couldn’t possibly slip in and out without being…well, distracted by so great a being.” Covetina raised her brow and there was no disguising what she meant. “You are the only one I trust enough to get the job done, by placing the key in his chest of nightly duties. He’ll never know if it is done while he sleeps.”

Lady Farcey was no fool. She knew the penalty that awaited her if she dared to disturb The Lord while he slept during the day. But she had to choose her words well – this woman before her was notorious for her childlike temper. Angering the lover of the king was the last thing Margaret intended. “My dear lady, could you not ask the King to pass the key? Or better yet, why not return it to the Keeper of the Sun. I am sure he would be happy to resume the duty.”

Covetina’s cruel, coy laugh echoed in the small, large windowed room. “My dear,” her tone was so demeaning it cut through the red fabric of Lady Farcey’s dress and pierced her heart. “You must understand; the king intends to take me as his wife. I cannot go around embarrassing him by returning a duty. Lord Night is so sleepy all the time, he won’t notice if another duty is added. He’ll do it without a second thought. But The Lord of the Day will know and he will report my lack of enthusiasm to every Regular he sees. Don’t you see, dearie, you have to do this for me.” She held the key out closely to Margaret who hesitated. Covetina was not a patient woman. She closed the distance between the pair of them and shoved the key into Lady Farcey’s chest. “As your future queen,” she growled, “I insist.”   

It was plainly clear to see that there was no other option but to obey.

~*~*~

What will happen to cause the fall of Lady Farcey? You'll just have to tune in next week to see!

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

Mosquito

Here it is, your Halloween read!

Mosquito

The stairwell that led to the attic was unnerving even of itself. To think that a victim to be recovered was somewhere in that dark place aloft chilled the hustling EMT to the bone. 

The enormous backpack he bore was not all that was weighing down the young first responder. He was a Southern California kid; attics were things you only heard of in movies and usually they were the thrillers. People only ever found ghouls and goblins in the attic. It seemed ridiculous for these fears to be creeping into a burly, EMT’s mind, but given the circumstances for bringing him here, Jay found the goosebumps on his arms to be fitting.

An oscillating fan was all that moved at the top of the stairs. A single, lone light from the spinning device shone down upon the scene. On the floor lay the woman in her night gown who had made the frantic call to their dispatcher. Her eyes were wide open, her gaze unfocused, but across every inch of her face was the touch of fear.

Jay fell to his knees and immediately rushed into the procedures given for addressing a downed victim. His own fears abated for the moment, he checked her pulse, he called out to her. No response.

Jay’s partner came to the top of the attic stairs and seeing his partner’s outstretched arms begin their attempt to rejuvenate life into this woman, he called on his radio for aid. The following ambulance was but moments away. He could already hear the sirens.

The unprecedented levels of heat and humidity in town made the confined space and the horrible unrolling situation stifling and unbearable. The fan above did nothing to help.

“Why would she come up here?”  Jay’s partner wondered as he ran back down the steps to bring the gurney bearers to the location. “She oughta have known that heat rises.”

As the partner ran passed a variety of religious artifacts nailed to the walls of the house that he failed to realize were skewed or upside down, strange shadows began to move about the house.

Sweat rained down from Jay upon the lifeless woman. The more compressions he did, singing, ‘Staying alive’ to keep in rhythm, the more Jay began to realize that she was gone. The cracked screened iPhone that lie a few feet away from her outstretched hand had brought them here, but in vain. And yet, Jay did not give up. He stared at the cross that dangled on a golden chain from this woman’s neck. It was tangled within her hair and the more he stared down at her, he began to realize the burn marks upon her neck. They looked to be in the shape of fingers. In the center of her forehead, Jay could see what looked like a welt – like a growing, inflamed mosquito bite.

Jay was suddenly re-galvanized with an intense desire to save this woman’s life. She had clearly endured an ungodly collection of hells to have ran up here to this oven to find salvation.  He could not accept her demise.

“Come on!” Jay insisted. He was getting light headed from his efforts. He could not wait for his partner to return to help carry this woman out of this pit.

The hum of the fan above began to change. The sounds devolved more and more into that of a buzz.

With steady, heavy pulsations, Jay continued his locked armed attempts to restart this woman’s heart. However, the song he sang to keep him in rhythm began to fade as the buzzing increased. The sound was not that of any fly or insect that he had ever heard in San Diego before. Looking up and around, in the soft light of the fan, Jay could see no bugs immediately around. ‘Is there a hive up here?’ he looked back to the woman’s forehead where the inflamed bite upon her brow lay.  Her eyes were still empty of life yet wide with fright. ‘Was she stung? Was that what scared her so bad?’

No sooner had the thought passed, a swooping buzz flounced by Jay’s ear. The sound was so intense that he ducked to the side, half expecting a mosquito the size of a hawk to be after him. Wide eyed himself, Jay looked all around. The buzz continued, but it was in the far corner of the attic where light was void.

The adrenaline pounding through Jay kept him vigilantly trying to revive the victim. “Where the hell are you, Tim?!” Jay shouted.

No answer was returned. The rest of the house below was heavy as if not merely empty, but dead.

The horrible buzzing in the corner grew louder and more powerful, as if feeding from his fear. But Jay knew that he had to keep at the CPR until his partner returned.

Though they had initially thought this woman to be on her own in this house, Jay’s heart and his head were quickly deducing that they were not alone.

Again, the wretched swooping ripped forward from the darkness. Once more he ducked, assuming that this time he would see the swarm coming for him. But his wide eyes saw nothing. What he felt, however, was far more disturbing. Through the bulwark of his backpack, Jay swore he felt the sting of jagged fingernails ripping across his skin.

With one more look to the cross on the victim’s neck, Jay knew as if it had been shouted to him by a sky full of angels that he had to get out.

And he was not about to leave her soul in this trap.

In one herculean transfer of his fear to strength, Jay swept the woman from the floor, carrying her over his shoulders like a shepherd a lamb. With the effort of a hundred men, Jay ran out from that place, trumping down the steps of the attic, through the torn home and down a second flight of stairs. Every step felt like ripping his legs out from a mire of mud and quick sand. The hellish buzzing chased him from the attic, down the stairs and through the long haul to the front door.

A lion-like shout pushed Jay out from that place, sending him diving across the porch to the sun-dried lawn. The second his ribs struck the hard ground, with the woman on his back, the buzzing halted.

Neither Jay nor the rushing ambulance responders would know if it was the efforts of Jay in the attic or the shock of the fall that filled the once motionless body of the woman with life. The woman was too quickly taken away to the tune of screaming sirens and a speeding ambulance to be questioned by Jay about anything.

Soaked through with sweat and fear, Jay sat in silence as his partner asked him a litany of questions, the least of which, being, “What the hell happened?”

Seeing his partner to be unresponsive, the EMT used his radio to call their dispatcher to alert them that they were going to the hospital.

In the moment that his partner turned away, Jay’s eyes looked to the eye-shaped window atop the house where the attic glared down upon him. There was no face, no shadow, no silhouette that could be seen, but Jay knew that whatever infested that house was looking straight at him.

Crossing himself, Jay kneeled before that accursed house. The poisoned energies inside would not go home with him, but the memory of this night would remain with him for the rest of his days.

Happy Halloween...sweet dreams.

Your humble author,

S. Faxon 

A Year Ago

It is insane to think that it was a year ago when I was in Turkey. Can you believe it's been that long? Life has taken me on some incredible adventures and every moment that I spent in that fascinating country was rich, beautiful, and full of intrigue. But there is one memory to which I return frequently. 

It was the day we spent at the Christian Caves in Cappadocia. There was a moment when I went ahead of my group and did some exploring and hiking on my own. There were all sorts of enormous bolders and caves stacked upon one another. It was late in the afternoon, the sun was starting to go down and I climbed atop a tall rock. There was at least 15 feet between the top of the ledge I settled upon to the paths below. The sprawling, white and golden sand landscape littered with the towers of stone lay out before me. There were no visible human settlements, no signs of condos, cars, or industrialization. It could have been 1500BC and yet here we were in 2014. It was a land untouched by time and human hands, though it was a highly popular tourist destination.

A beautiful and powerful emotion filled me. I remember thanking God for all of the blessings in my life, for giving me the opportunity to see another corner of the world, and for the awe-inspiring beauty of our planet. I could have sat in that spot for hours, watching the sunset roll over the earth paving the way for the starts to emerge. That spot, those hours of twilight that my companions and I spent in that place those are feelings and images that will live forever in my mind as bright and as real as the present. 

Again, my dear readers, I could not have made that trip without YOUR help and support. I know I haven't written as much as I used to, but please know that I'm not giving up on this blog and I hope that you don't either. I write to share a moment of peace or two with you. I hope that you are able to glean a little smile or to escape from the troubles of your day with the little blurbs of mine.

Until next time.

Your humblle author,

S. Faxon

 

The Crumpled Note

Guess who's back? ME! And my pen. Here's a short just for you, my dear readers.

The Crumpled Note

Late night at the side of a seaport was no place for a young academic. The cool, salt laden breeze was enough to invigorate the souls of seamen, but for the academic laden with balancing books in one arm and constantly correcting his bifocals with the other, the smell was sickening. He was looking green around the gills, as some of those seamen would say on their ships when inexperienced sailors embarked upon vessels for the first time. However, this lad’s business here at the seaport had nothing to do with the tall ships that lay with their anchors planted throughout the deep waters of the marina.  The business of young Thad was to meet with a soul that he had never seen.

The crumpled, rumpled bit of paper in his tweed-jacket pocket read an address to which he had never visited to meet this person that he had never met. The burly sailors that passed by Thad were far too intimidating for the young man to inquire any questions of, though if he were to stop and ask they would have gladly pointed him in the right direction. Instead, Thad scooted along, clinging his books to his side as if they were a bastion between his pocket-watch and pickpockets. A low hanging street light that shone in the mist of the evening was where Thad trod to take another look at the bit of paper in his pocket. Adjusting his spectacles to read the note, Thad leaned heavily towards the light’s post and read yet again:

Gormhook, R.A.

127 Pearl

Thad sighed heavily. He knew by the crooked sign-posts that lined the port that he had reached Pearl Street, but none of the red-bricked buildings appeared to be number 127. He stood in the precise middle of number 126 and number 128. There was no other building behind him, and this appeared to be an even numbered street. Yet, the street on the other side of Pearl was marked as any other street with odds and evens exchanging on either side. This task that his professor had sent him upon seemed hopeless.

From the small cabin on his slip, the retired Rear Admiral Gormhook watched with great interest, the young academic pace to and fro, passing countless men and the occasional gal who could more than easily have pointed him in the right direction.

Taking in a deep duff from his Cuban all he wanted were the books clutched in the academic’s arms detailing the tales of sailors long lost. He wondered how long he would let the young lad continue in this way. Perhaps he would wait until the timid land-lover either passed out from fright or gave up without once asking for aid or turning to look at the long wooden slips that stuck out from the street, all of which, clearly numbered. Shaking his head, Gormhook said to the spirit of the ships that surrounded him, “That’s the trouble with academics – they’re lost beyond the library.”

~*~*~

Happy Wednesday, dear readers, and I'll write to you again soon.

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

The Return of the Pen

Hello again, my dear readers,

Yes, I disappeared from the face of the interweb again. It just so happens that I was up to no good. As I'm sure that you can see:

Foreign & Domestic Affairs

Whoa-dang!!! What's this? Is that the long awaited sequel to The Feasts and Follies of the Animal Court? 

That's right my friends, it is. Foreign & Domestic Affairs is the exciting conclusion to Lady Gertrude's tale. This has been published EXCLUSIVELY on Amazon's Kindle, so please, come on, click the link and get to reading! It is summer after all. You'll need a good book with which to curl under a tree. If you don't have a Kindle, don't worry, there's an App for that. If you have an iPad, a tablet, a computer, a smart phone (you know you have at least one of those) then this book is available for you. So go on, you know you want to!

Write to you soon! 

Your humble and published again author,

S. Faxon

The Place Between Part 13

I was watching The Sandlot while simultaneously trying to write the last portion of this post. I'm ashamed to say that this was my first time watching Sandlot. I can more than understand why it is a classic. My favorite scene was when they were all at the carnival on the spinning wheel. Terribly gross, but hilarious. 

Only two more segments will follow this post! Come and see how this story ends at the Weekly Read! If you're stopping by for the first time, why not give the beginning of this story a try! Start by Clicking Here.

The Place Between Part 13

The bell rang. 

Mike and Chelsea began to scoot out of the library, looking to Cassie for an explanation about this new man and about the incident yesterday. They wouldn't be in class together for another two periods and the wait that would span between them would seem forever.

Martin looked to Cassie too. The bell had him confused. "Does that mean we have to go?" he asked her quietly as he nervously watched the exodus of teens leaving the library.

"No," Cassie dismissed. "It's the first bell. There'll be two more telling us all to get to our advisory period, but Marlie will write us a note, so we'll be fine." 

Marlie began her conversation with the assistant to the principle while simultaneously keeping an eye on the students as they left the protective sanctuary of her keep.

Cassie's nonchalant assurance did little to assuage the butterflies in Martin's stomach. Though there were many similarities between this world and his, and while there was no way anyone could uncover his secret unless he made a display of magic, it was unnerving to be so far and yet so close to his home.

~*~*~

As Cassie had anticipated, Marlie wrote her and her "cousin" a note dismissing them from being considered truent. While that was a free pass, escaping the whispers and harsh judgmental gazes from her classmates was unavoidable. Cassie wished she had printed a sign and taped it to her and Martin's shoulders saying "We're cousins" to help shoo off the people who continuously kept coming up to her to ask questions. Advisory was a free-for-all, so Cassie had anticipated this to be the worst part of the day. She was glad that she had previously warned Martin about this because she could see that he was nervous. She could not imagine how much worse off he would be had she skipped any sort of disclaimer.

While Marlie had left a message with the principle's assistant, both Martin and Cassie realized that it would be some time before they heard back from Marlie with confirmation about the meeting. Marlie would reach out to Cassie (having her schedule on a stickie note posted to her computer) through the class phones.

First period dragged on for Cassie. For Martin, he was genuinely interested in the subjects being taught to the students. He found this to be a great learning experience. Even though watching a half dozen youth playing with their cell phones underneath their desks or in their backpacks was less than encouraging, it was exciting to see the day to day lives of people in the world above.

Cassie felt bad for Martin - her first real class of the day was art, which was all well and good, but then followed Calculus, which was a bit more like purgatory. However, right before the bell rang to release the students from math, the phone on the teacher's desk sounded. Cassie and Martin sat straight. They watched the teacher talk on the phone while the rest of class packed up for third period.

"Uh, Cassie," although she was already looking, the teacher drew Cassie's attention with a wave of his hand. "Your cousin can go see the principle now."

Cassie and Martin looked to each other. This was the moment of truth.

"Did they say if I could go too?" Cassie asked the teacher.

Mr. Morris gave Cassie a look. "What do you think your next teacher will think if you miss class?"

Mr. Pryer might not have noticed, but Cassie knew that she could not disappear from class with her friends being so curious about Martin. They needed answers.

The bell rang.

The students poured out from class and Martin looked to Cassie with great concern.

"I'll take you to the principle," she answered his unasked question. The pair of them began to walk out of the class. "But I'm not going to be able to miss my next class unnoticed." They walked into the hall buzzing with students en route to their next destinations. Cassie started to lead Martin to the main office where their morning at the school started together. "If anything happens..." Cassie tapped on the ring that the president and him gave to her so that they all could communicate. "Let me know."

Martin was determined to see this through. An enormous part of him hoped that nothing would happen, but he truly wanted to uncover the people behind this conspiracy. 'We're probably just over thinking this entire matter,'  Martin ensured himself. 'But if this man turns out to be anything less than what he appears...God help us.'

Cassie and Martin walked into the office and approached the principle's assistant who sat at small desk overflowing with files and paper work. To say this woman was overworked was a drastic understatement.

"Hi," Cassie timidly approached the desk - she felt as if she was about to ask permission to visit with the 'great and powerful Wizard of Oz.' The office assistant merely looked over her glasses to see what this student who was likely going to be late to class had to say. "Um, my cousin, Martin Shire is here to speak to the principle. I just brought him by so that he could find this alright." Cassie reached back to grab Martin by the elbow and pulled him up to stand beside her. She was feeling nervous without him within her direct eyesight.

"One moment please, sir," the assistant said sweetly to Martin. "The principle is on a phone call at the moment, so it'll be a couple more minutes." The assistant turned her gaze to Cassie and said sternly, "He's in good hands now, so you better get on to class, missy."

Martin took a step away from the desk toward some plastic chairs where students waiting to see the principle would have to sit. With a half smile to Cassie he said, "I'll be alright. I'll see you soon." The pair had already discussed the two potential scenarios for meeting afterward: 1) if everything went okay and the principle turned out to be a regular joe, the pair of them would meet either in Cassie's biology class - the number of the room was written on a square of paper in Martin's pocket - or 2) if the principle turned out to be a guy up to no good, Martin would leave the school as discretely as possible and alert Cassie through a buzz of the ring she wore. From there, Cassie was directed to wait until the sun went down and her parents tucked themselves away to sleep for the night before she could return to the Place Between. That was the plan at least, what would actually transpire...

The walk to class felt like the walk to the gallows. The expectant eyes of her friends as she walked into class a minute after the bell rang were equally as daunting. The beginning of class usually took a while to get going, most of the students were still standing or sitting on the tops of their desks. Only Mike and Chelsea noticed that Cassie was late. 

"Hey, where's that guy?" Chelsea asked. "We didn't even know you have a cousin." 

Cassie settled into her seat and dumped her pack up on to the desk, leaning heavily upon it. 

"What's that?" Mike said pointing at Cassie's ring. 

"It's just a costume ring," Cassie answered dismissively. Cassie casually tucked her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirts "And he's kinda a distant cousin on my dad's side." Cassie answered, but she knew that the answer would not be enough for her friends. Indicating to her friends to lean in close, Cassie said quietly, "Look, he's here for more than just to see what a day in the life is like for us. He's here to find out what he can about the stuff that happened yesterday."

"Like how?" Chelsea asked. 

While Cassie explained to her friends that Martin was investigating the situation personally, Martin was doing exactly that.

Mr. Pryer called class together and for the next thirty-one minutes everything was going just fine. That was until Cassie started with a jump.

The ring on her finger had begun to buzz.

~*~*~    

Looks like there's trouble afoot! Come back next week, to see what's going to happen next!

I'm off to bake gluten free chocolate scones now.

Your humble author,

S. Faxon