Okay, so I’m going to make just one more introduction to a character from the book that I’m working on. Like I’ve warned before, THIS particular book is a LOT darker than what I usually write, but I’m finding it kind of fun to weave this lil ole fantasy world, so I’m just letting the chips fall where they may and letting the characters tell me their own stories however they want. Anyway, give it a read, and as always, feel free to ask me any questions you wish, and let me know your thoughts. So, that said, allow me just a few a few moments of your time to introduce……
SAMUEL
The voice from the man behind the desk wafted like a wisp of smoke through the darkness of the room, “…and in the end…there’s just you and the world that you make.” it said.
The man finished mouthing the last few words of his speech, leaned back in his chair, and enjoyed the last reverberations of his voice bouncing off the walls before it faded into nothingness.
He looked down at the cell phone resting on his desk. “Ten minutes, thirty- nine seconds. Now that’s pert-near perfect.” he said as he lifted it from in his hand. With his free hand, he pecked at the phone’s screen; resetting the timer to match this newly established record and then placed it back on the desk; leaving the timer’s “start” button winking its bright, sickly, green eyed welcome.
As he sat, a voice from the other side of the door lurched it’s way through the newborn silence of the room. “Sir…It’s almost time.” it said.
The voice stabbed painfully at the brain of the man behind the desk like a barrage of gas soaked, flaming toothpicks, forcing his usually carefully controlled face to allow a grimace to claw its way to the surface. He glared thru the darkness of the office towards the door and swallowed hard against the bitterness creeping up his throat. When he finally spoke, his response unwillingly rode his slow, southern drawl across his teeth and tumbled into the empty space of his office with the stubbornness of a child’s tantrum.
“…I’ll… be…out.” he said.
He splayed his hands on his desk, pushed his chair back, and stood up mechanically; his long, spindly frame unfolding slowly like some man sized spider coming out of its hole. A shock of familiar pain worked its way through him as he bent his body upright. The pain had been pretty much a constant over the years, and so it had earned its place as his own personal demon; a demon that needed to be exorcised daily with large amounts of Jack and Coke. On exceptionally bad days though, the demon resisted a little more than normal and would require a sacrifice with a bit more….”kick” to quiet it down. Fortunately, today wasn’t one of those days.
He reached down and opened one of the drawers of the desk to reveal a pile of disheveled papers. He shuffled the pile around and pulled a small, silver flask of his special “holy water” from underneath, and drank until the demon was sated or at least placated for the time being. He stood up straight, grabbed the book from the cluttered desktop, placed it under his arm, and made his way to the door. On his way, he stopped briefly to glance at his reflection in the mirror; pausing long enough to zip up the long black robe that draped off his shoulders until its collar was tight around his neck. He ran his hands down along his sides, making sure to smooth out any eye drawing bulges protruding from underneath it. As he looked, the man in the mirror smirked back at him. The man outside the mirror stepped away, grabbed his cell phone from the desk, then pulled at the doorknob. He stepped out of the darkened office, and into brightness of the long connecting hallway.
That same voice again…. “ ‘S’cuse me…s’cuse me…..Pastor Sam?…” , it squeaked.
He had been called many things over the years; zealot, healer, snake oil salesman, prophet, man of God, predator, leader, and hypocrite, but for some reason, that name, that…. “Pastor Sam”, was like fingernails on his mental chalkboard. Just hearing it filled him with a seething, roiling disgust for these people…these…disgusting throngs of “latcher ons” waiting for him to deliver some shards of wisdom, some magical recipe from “ The Book”; waiting for him to attach some sort of meaning to their meaningless existence. “Leeches…’dem bastard ass freakin’leeches.”, he thought.
He kept walking…ignoring the voices that seemed to constantly tug at him from the edges of the hallway, all the while trying to squash the sudden urge to turn around and “lay hands” on the neck of every piss ant calling his name.
He smiled. “Piss ants…..Now, that’s funny…” he thought and the smile coming a bit easier to his face. He kept repeating it to himself, “Piss…ants! Piss…ants!…Piss… ants!” as he walked, timing it perfectly with every step like some herky jerky internal metronome.
He let his long spidery legs eat away ravenously at the hallway’s red carpeted distance; allowing himself to reach the door at the end of the hall quickly. He stopped for a moment, making one last adjustment to the bulges jutting out from underneath his robe. Satisfied that everything was in order, he reached for the door, and turned the knob.
He glanced down at his waist one more time. “Bulky ass bomb.”, he thought as he pressed the glowing start button on his cell phone timer and stepped onto the pulpit.
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