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Up to September 19th - enjoy
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Sunday, 14 August 2016
Thursday, 14 April 2016
W. Du Plooy
Connor wakes slowly that Sunday. The night before was restless, filled with nightmares. The dreams were so vivid, red blood gushing on the ground—fires crackling in the background with the eerie glow of the flames in dying eyes. He sits up, groaning softly while rubbing the acing muscles in his neck.
Connor, are you okay? I considered waking you but I was unsure if that would be the correct course of action…
I did not realise that you are able to see inside my dreams...
We are more connected than you can imagine. Changing the subject will not help, I think we should talk about the hordlings you killed—it obviously bothers you.
Of course it does! I have been so worried about my family that I managed to push it back but...
Connor can hear his mother talking downstairs. The voices of his family mingle with hers and he immediately realise that he is the subject of discussion.
“Connor seems a bit…down. He was very quiet last night.” Camalus enquires his voice full of concern.
They are worried about me…
I am worried about you too, Connor. Your nightmares are a clear indication of your inner turmoil.
Wait, I want to hear what my mom answers.
“I think what happened in
is bothering him a lot more than he is
letting on. He does not—like taking lives, even if it is in defence of the
“Have you spoken to him?” Artio asks.
“No, I do not want to force the issue. He will talk when he is ready.” Stella answers.
I better get dressed and join them.Connor, you know that I am always here to listen to you
Daylight had long since given up its hold on the small town of Edwardsville, Illinois. With the sun’s departure, darkness crept into the town like black fog, shrouding buildings and trees in a hushed gloom.
People instinctively withdrew into their homes, fleeing from a perception of danger they would never be able to put into words or understand. Only a few brave souls remain outside, out of ignorance or necessity.
A lonely diner stands in bright contrast to the night around it, florescent lights illuminate the inside, flooding through huge windows in a feeble attempt to push the shadows back.
Inside a solitary figure is hastily moving from table to table, nervously cleaning. The sturdy middle-aged waitress stops to stare out the windows, trying to find in the shadowy depths the cause of her unease. The feeling of being watched has been sending shivers up and down her spine all night.
After locking up, she hastily starts to cross the few feet of black asphalt separating her from the safety of her car. Her unease of earlier is rapidly escalating into panic, driving her to quicken her pace. She stumbles a few times, never slowing down, as she searches for elusive car keys in a too big handbag. In desperation, she shakes the bag and sighs in relief as the soft jingle of keys betray its hiding place under a notebook.
Reaching her car, she pulls the keys free, and while fidgeting with them in the lock she absent-mindedly stares at the streetlights dimly flickering in the distance. Giggling softly under her breath, she scolds herself for getting all worked up for nothing.
In that brief moment between seconds, Mavis Martins dies without ever seeing her killer, without even the briefest of changes to ponder on regrets or reflect on a life not lived to its fullest—but at least her weak heart spares her a slow and tortured death.
Miles away in a slightly too neat room for a teenager, a young man who has been sleeping up to now, wakes with a jerk. Confusion fills his mind as he sits up in his bed. Why am I awake? He groans, his eyes sweeping over the room, pausing on his desk and the door to his room, still closed.
I was not having a nightmare… He frowns, dragging his fingers through his hair. I do not remember dreaming at all. Maybe a noise could have… He closes his eyes, listening for any sound from in- or outside the house that could have woken him but receives no explanation from the slumbering world around him.
With a sigh, he falls back and closes his eyes. He yawns before snuggling into his cushion.
After a few minutes, his eyes snap open and he scowls in irritation. Oh, come on! It’s only… He reaches over to his wristwatch lying on the side table. It is only twenty minutes past one. I want to…need to go back to sleep!
For a while, he unsuccessfully tries to fight his way back to sleep before gracefully accepting defeat. Oh, who am I kidding? I am never going to get back to sleep tonight. I could read a little... He leans over and after snapping the light on again, he smiles while opening the novel he has been reading now for a couple of days. I wonder when Bella will finally realize that Edward is a vampire, besides reading Twilight in secret is about my only option. If any of the guys see me reading a love story—I will never hear the end of it!
Wednesday, 30 March 2016
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