#At this point I change my mind Vitaly interact so I can get you to stop please please please

[myimaginespot]

I WAS IN THE DARKNESS SO DARKNESS I BECAME- Chapter 6

I’m so sorry for the delay these months were crazy and I did not have time to finish the chapter but I promise to upload new chapters every week and make them longer. :)

Reader x Thomas Shelby

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Thomas

I took her to a guest room, she weight nothing, her bones felt prominent. Wasn’t she eating? I’ll have a talk with her babysitter, as she call her. She have a rare sense of humor, I like it. She’s so stubborn just like me or maybe more. I  worry about her dislike to being touch, not because I wanted to touch her , I really truly not… I think. But because that means she’ve been dealing with abuse for  a long time, clearly by her fathers hand , I don’t even want to think about that but one more reason to hate that bastard. She is definitely not what I expected. Something within me makes me want to help her  and protect her but at the same time I can’t trust her, what she told us makes sense, I do believe that all of this wedding thing is a trap, I must watch her closely this month. I place her in the bed and examine the wound on her head, it looks that she is really good at sewing. I make the maid call for the doctor and wait in her room, she looks tiny in the big bed, she makes it difficult to remember her stature, thanks to her attitude she seams taller than must men I knew. Even in her sleep peace eludes her. Teresa enter the room with worry on her face. she has not seen me sitting in the chair in the corner. She starts to take the pins of (Y/N) hair, then she proceeds to remove the gloves from (Y/N)  hands, that’s when I see the blood staining her hands and bruises on her knuckles. Teresa take the tray with water that she brought with her and start cleaning (Y/N) hands with a sigh. She does not look surprised, rather resigned, that makes me wonder what the fuck really happen . “What really happen before she arrived here?” I demand in a cold voice. Teresa jumps scared and looks for the intruder, she looks at me and bow her head. “ I’m sorry Mr. Shelby I didn’t see you siting there” “ I ask you a question” I repeat . “ She look between me and (Y/N)  thinking about what to say or what to do. “ I’m sorry sir but is not up to me to revel information of Miss. (Y/N)” she said apologetic “ If you want to remain with her you’ll tell me what I want to know or else go pack your bag and leave my house.” I said with any remorse. She looks at me trying to figure me out. Good luck with that. “She was in a fight “ was all she said. “ obviously, but why ?” I waited. “ I honestly don’t know how to answer that question Mr. Shelby” “She told us that she ‘ll kill Vitali and what he planed , she is willing to work with me , so if your afraid of betraying her , don’t. I want to know if I can trust her and you seem to know her really well, she respects you, for the little I saw.” Teresa stare at me with shock then back to (Y/N). She sigh and took a sit in the chair near the bed.

“I care for her, and I will never do something to harm her, I fear more her anger than yours Mr. Shelby but I was the one to tell her that she needed to cooperate with you, because you both seem to have the same goal. I think she try to do that by what are you telling me, you need to understand that she is very different and complicated. She struggle to interact in a civilized way with people and that’s because she had have a rough life whether you believe it or not.” She look at (y/N) again and sight “Her father send men to do that to her because you call him and make him believe that you would call of the wedding because of her behavior and he got angry at her, that’s what happened.” I didn’t know what to say , guilt and anger run through my mind, this was the first time I regretted the way I handle things to achieve what I wanted . “Men? ” I ask with disbelieve. “ Yes, men. It’s not the first time neither.” “Why? she is his daughter why would he do something like that?” “Because he can” “ That motherfucker. I dislike him more and more” “Mr. Shelby….you can trust her, she is the kind of person that does not have to lie or cheat to get something, she sees and takes, she says and acts, she promises and fulfills, she dictates and exercises. That is why in our world she is feared. Brutal honestly is fear among this circles, you should know, People do not expect it.” “ How can I trust her when I don’t know anything about her. No one I hired could find information about her, it’s like she don’t even exist.” I told her. “I talk to women in the city to find out about you Mr. Shelby, you’re very famous, respected and feared, I know your people try to find information about her. ” I study Teresa closer, she was about Pollys age and didn’t seem to be a simple maid. I was now intrigue to know the relation between her and (Y/N). I take a cigarette and lit it up. “She moves in a different circle than anyone, not richer , but darker and dangerous. The people that know about her will never tell. within this land the probability that at least one person knows about her is high if some one is in debt with the iItalian mafia. But you see, they fear her more than they fear you , that is why you found nothing about her. “ “ Like I said, she is honest and if you want to know about her just ask her.” I thought about the things that Teresa told me, what kind of circles exactly? Would it be true that people fear her more than they fear me? Better change the subject for now. “She is so thin, Doesn’t she eat ?” I ask her. Teresa looked  uncomfortable “ She does eat Mr. Shelby, sometimes she doesn’t have time or she forgets to eat at all,  she lives under a lot of stress. That’s why she call me her babysitter” she smile “ I often bother her about this subject and make her sit down and eat, she cannot leave until she finish everything.” “ I can’t imagine her doing as she’s told, you’re important  for her if she  does what  you tell her” “ Her mother died when she was five years old, I’ve known and carry for her since that age. “ “Good, then you’ll make sure that she eats proper, I’ll supervise her but when I’m not around it’ll be your duty” “Of course Mr. Shelby”

We waited in silence until the doctor arrive. He was about to examine her and he  ask me to go out of the room, I tell him to fuck off and do his job. Teresa was about to said something but she think it twice. I was not about to leave (Y/N) with a strange man in her room.

The doctor check for a concussion but there was non, they take her dress out to examine her ribs and I could see her body just cover by a thin piece of clothe, I focus on her wounded arms, they were fill with bruises from defending her self, she had black bruises in her ribs, they were not broken just a couple were  fracture, the blood that she coughwas du to a hit lung but she was not in danger she just needed rest. When the doctor finish he gave us instructions to take care of her and then they left her room and I stay back contemplating her.   What have I gotten myself into?

“She ok Tom?” Arthur ask . “She’ll be just fine, she needs rest thats all.” I sit down on a couch and lit up a cigarette. “She is something else” John laugh and Esme look at him. “ She thinks she is better than us John” Esme argue. Polly stay silent looking hard at me. “ What is it Poll spit it put” “I don’t trust her Thomas, keep your eyes open. You don’t want another surprise like what happened with Grace, a fucking cop”

It was late I was in my office doing some paperwork but I couldn’t seem to focus. Grace have been gone for almost two year now, she got married and I let her go but a couple of months back she started to write me letters, I never open one. I didn’t want to know about her  but true be told I don’t know what would happen if I ever see her again. I fell in love with her and she betray me .

(Y/N)

I woke up in pain, nothing new, the bed felt different, fluffier and big, immediately I sit and look around me, reaching for my gun but there was no gun and  I was in my underwear, my head spin and my ribs were killing me. “Fuck!!” I said without a breath. What the hell happen? all I remember are cold eyes of the most intense blue I have ever seen… Thomas! I am in Thomas house, I faint. Fuck. I tried to get up of bed, my knees felt weak, what the fuck did I sleep through the whole year?. I tried to reach the bathroom and I fell to the floor. “Motherfucker!!” I let out a small scream and I stay lying on the floor in pain and  resigned. I start thinking about the meeting with the Shelbys, sure as hell I made an impression. I sigh. Why can I get along with people!? I try I swear I tried but what is the point if they already think bad about me . Bha.. even if they get to know me they ‘ll probably hate me, I’m not a good person. While I was ranting someone enter the room. “Teresa how many years did I sleep in, my legs don’t function.” I said with my face buried in the wooden floor. She didn’t  answers and I felt a strong hand turn me around  with care. My eyes collided with the must beautiful set of eyes, I felt shivers running through my body.

“You should take it easy” Thomas said, he approach me with the intention of lifting me up. “Stop” I said with panic to Thomas “Whats the matter? you can’t stay on the ground you’re wounds haven’t heal yet, yo need rest” he was about to pick me up but i held my hand to stop him “ I can get up by my self “ “ Clearly you can’t even stand up so let me help you don’t be stubborn” he tried to touch me again. I started to feel scared , this is one of the things that i couldn’t handle. being touch. there are a few reasons why I don’t let people touch me, fist one,  innocent people get close to me they die, Michael was innocent . Maybe Thomas was not innocent at all but he didn’t deserve my bad luck. I gather all my strength and lift myself up the floor , the pain run through my body. I almost lost my balance but reach the bed and I held on. I look Thomas in the eye and I could see that they way I was acting was strange and will I would raise suspicions about why I hated being touch but I couldn’t care less.

“I’m ok now so you can continue with your things I don’t need another babysitter.” Thomas took a sit in front of the bed , took out a cigaret and light it up. the way he held the cigar and smoke it was something so intense to behold,. “Tell me more about you’re fathers plan“ I took a seat on the edge of the bed and realized that I was in my underwear in front of Thomas and I felt my face turn red but I decided to act naturally as if I do not care. “All I know is that this marriage is a trap he is crazy about getting the wedding held and some people of the new york familia are in town.” “but if somewhat came to happened you will be at risk at the wedding reception, you’re the daughter of the Head.

I laughed hard “ He couldn’t care less for me Thomas I am disposable” he look at me not believing what  I told him I could see it in his eyes. “ Lets assume that what you’re telling me is true, for me to trust in you I need to now every detail, how many people came from new york?”

“I have no idea but I could find out” “I also need to know who are they and why they came here “ “yeah that may be a little difficult but I’ll see what I can do” I stretch my hand to the night stand and pick up my cigars and lit  one” “See Thomas you're not the only one who needs to trust someone , we’ll work together but don’t you ever think of betraying me, you would not like the outcome” he smile at me, not a real smile “ The same goes for you and you better watch the way you talk to me y/n I am not working for you and I don’t like threats , be careful” I stare at the ceiling“ I think we both need to be careful”

With that being said he walk out the room  and I kept staring at the ceiling. Something wet was rolling down my cheek, water stain my fingers. Tears, I could not remember the last time I cry so it was a shock. It have to be cause by the pain I felt , must certainly was that. Nothing to do with the fact that my chest felt hollow.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby imagine

[wildflowerfiction77]

Tales of Scarcity: Fiction 2

Hunters of the Supernatural

 Written by Daniel Vera

 Characters created by Ruben Vera

in Tales of Scarcity

 Chapter One

El Dia de Corazon 

 Some things he remembers clearly.   Like the day his brother said, “They were after you.”  Alfonso Cesar Cortez was a College Professor at the State University.  He was teaching full time in Ancient Civilizations. He was going on ten years of teaching there at the age of 38.  It was a long trek.  He never in his wildest dreams would have believed anything that was happening in his current life would be possible.  He never believed in the supernatural.    

First off, everyone he knows thinks he is crazy, paranoid or on drugs.  A few of 

them are trying to kill him.  And some of them are possessed.  His ex-wife and his 10 year old son are amongst them.  But that is a little later in the story.  It all started when he found a pair of sunglasses at the used book store in Egypt when on vacation with his then wife, Susan Evans, a famous romantic novelist.  He had purchased them, though it seemed like someone had left them there and the store owner gladly took the money.  They were a peculiar type glass, almost like a quartz or ruby crystal.  His eyes were bothering him, and the glasses seemed to clear his vision.  

They did have a changing tint to them.  Sometimes reddish, sometimes gold and sometimes aqua green.  They visited an ancient church in the desert, and along with some of the locals, they were baptized.  They weren’t religious, so they did it for the experience.  But something had happened.  He was able to see beyond people’s persona. He started seeing beyond their physical selves and into their inner selves.  At first he thought he heard some distant conversations, but no one else was there, it was the inner conversation of the people around him, but blurry.  He began to have premonitions, like a sixth sense.  He thought it must have been the food or the water.

When they returned to the States, it slowed down.  But every once in a while, he would see movement when things weren’t there.  He finally blamed it on the glasses.  He put them in storage and never thought twice, it was some side effects of the substance of the lenses.  His wife had finished her newest book and announced she was pregnant.  Alfonso was ecstatic.  He had just received his Masters and had an opportunity to teach part time at the University.  He was sure he would get a full time position as soon as it opened up and they were doing alright financially.  Again, life gave him another twist of fate, and he found out Susan was having an affair with her Agent around the first year of their son, Josephs birth.  

He couldn’t feel to bad, because he was spending a lot of time with a female co-worker at the college.  Andromeda Romanos Vitalis, a Greek clerical secretary in the Admissions department.  Soon after they developed a steamy relationship.  They were doing well until some bad luck bestowed her family in Greece and she had to move back.  They saw each other off and on, but they ultimately decided to end it after a while.  During this time, Susan and Alfonso began fighting more about domestic issues and money.  She had ran through a few different relationships.  The affair with her Agent didn’t last, he liked strip clubs in the city.  Her tennis instructor was a summer fling.  She was seeing a professional boxer at one point.  She decided to live out her books instead of writing them.  She had a vodka and powder habit for a moment, but she seemed to kick them when she married a Doctor.  Dr. Michael O’Hara.  It couldn’t have been written more cliche.  

The ten years quickly passed and Alfonso got the full time position and started to settle into his career.  Amongst dating some of his well bestowed female students every so often, and frequenting the singles bars, he was a decent father.  During that time, he did delve into his studying.  He tried to travel as much as possible, at first to meet with Andromeda, then to other locations that had meaning in Ancient History.  He started to fancy whiskey and cigars along with guns and other weapons he found through his travels.  He became pretty good at hand to hand combat and would use that to clear his mind and zero him out.  That was until he found out that he had blundered into an Ancient Curse, in the same book store he had visited 10 years prior.  This is where the story begins, that to one that is involved, it does not seems real.  

 Chapter Two

El Muerto Vivo

 Alfonso at the time of his 38th birthday completed his work day like any other day.  He woke up in the morning to a strong cup of freshly ground coffee brewing by a girl he met at the uptown singles bar a few weeks ago, Sharen; a redhead that liked to play ruff in the bed.  It was good for his cardio.  She was wearing his dress shirt and nothing else. She had the body of a dancer.  The relationship was purely physical, and they used up the morning proving it.  

Grabbing a quick hot pocket, he rushed out of his apartment to pick up his son for school, as his son had a field trip to go to.  Alfonso had bought him a special phone watch that had just hit the market.  It had all the gadgets technology could afford.  He picked him up at his mother’s place.  Susan answers the door in her work out clothes.  She always gives a condescending smirk when greeting him, just before she uses her full form and enchantress ways to play the seductress role that they both partake.  In her best Marilyn Monroe, which is pretty damn good, she sings him happy birthday.  

Joseph runs out and is ready for the school field trip to the state capital.  He is oblivious to anything but his new shoes and hat.  He runs past them and gets in the car, calling for his father to hurry up.  He wants to be early.  After a long hug from his ex, he drives the Camero to exceeding speeds and gets to the school early like requested.  Before the young boy ventures out, his father gives him the new watch.  He tries to explain what the watch is, but Joseph says he already knows and thanks his dad before running off.  

Alfonso gets to his school a little late, like the whole semester he has been.  He runs into his boss on the way up the stairs to his 11 am class. He swears they must be following him.  Dr. Mick Clooney, a towering figure always dressed in as much black as he can.  He must only own black suits and ties.  His accent says he’s from South Africa, but he’s been in the U.S. for quite some time.  A blond haired, blue eyed man, most likely a descendant from Germany, around 6’3, 230 pounds.  He wonders how this man even got into this profession.  He looks like he should be a retired MMA fighter that can still fight.  At every faculty function, he just stands there answering any in coming questions and usually sipping a hot tea.  He never is the first one to initiate an interaction unless job related, usually to reprimand.  They started working at the college around the same time.  He was promoted around 5 years ago to Dean of the History Department.  The previous Dean had passed away in a car accident.  He was an older gentleman, Dr. Henry Shoemaker.  He was the person who encouraged Alfonso to apply for the job. 

 Dr. Clooney says to Alfonso, “Are you late again Mr. Cortez?”

 Alfonso replies, “It’s my birthday, I got caught up in traffic.”

 Dr. Clooney ends the conversation with, “See me in my office after you finish your class.”

 “Shit, and my day started to good.”  He thinks to himself as he walks into a classroom full of 35 students waiting to pass a class they don’t want to take, but are required to.  He unclips his briefcase with a thumb-drive that has the years lectures safely saved from prying eyes.  The computer gives him problems once again.  It’s a persistent bug that has plagued the semester.  He improvises instead for the hour on the South American Amazon and how the idea of Wonder Woman fits into the lost mythology; ancient civilizations, got to love it. 

In front of the class for the whole semester, sits one the most gorgeous 21 year old woman he has ever seen.  There seems to be one every year.  Most years he has been able to fend them off either by indifference or keeping busy.  They usually seem to be persistent, and very persuasive,  running into him around town, or at social functions.  This year, Misha Michelle, a brunette with green eyes, a sharp tongue and a sure double for Megan Fox, with the body of Salma Hayek, likes to stay after class and ask questions.  Normally he answers and does office work, but he ran into her a few weeks ago at an ice cream shop after a night out at the bars, and they had a moment in the bathroom.  Since then, he has found it hard to look away when she wears mini skirts and loose tank tops.  She gives him a birthday present after class in a broom closet no one frequents. 

He quickly finds himself on the way to the Deans office.  In transit he runs into a few co workers.  Standing at the secretary’s desk is his long time rival, Jason Burgs, a fellow Historian. Jason and Alfonso met a few years ago when Mr. Burgs was hired as an Art History professor.  Turns out he is qualified to take Alfonso’s job as well.  He seems to be around when things are not going well for Alfonso.  The bald head, bearded man, gives him a tip of the hat of his fedora as they pass by each other.  Alfonso would quickly beat the tar out this skinny man if he would not lose his job over it.  

 Chapter Three

Lamentum por el Fin

 Alfonso is on a plane to Egypt.  It is three months later from when he walked into the office.  Dean McClooney had been waiting for him.  The conversation started very cold and ended somewhere in the Arctic.  He still doesn’t quite understand what McClooney was hinting at.  He goes through it in his head as he sits in coach.  He was reprimanded for a poor semester performance.  There were issues on his lack of enthusiasm, preparation, and not following the syllabus.  His long rants on subjects of the supernatural and folklore of Ancient Civilizations had began worrying his co-workers and students.  For the life of him, he didn’t know which ones, other than Burgs and a couple of other rambunctious ego driven student; he fails to recall their names. So they agreed to a one year, paid leave hiatus.  

So Alfonso decided to make a five week vacation to Egypt to finish a paper he started.  More importantly though, to find the shop in which he first picked up the glasses that sparked his interest in the unknown.  The summer before his last semester at the University, he found the pair of glasses on his kitchen table.  He figured his son had discovered them while burrowing to find some materials for his school projects in the attic.  As memorabilia, he decided to wear them every so often.  The girl he was seeing at the time seemed to like them.  She was into retro culture.  He actually thought they were pretty cool.  He was going through his midlife crises.  He started noticing more symbols than normal in advertisements, movies and mass media in general that pertained to ancient folklore than normal.  It was a new wave of glorification for some pretty dark histories and cults.  He also started seeing them in city mason buildings.  He knew it was a dangerous subject, so he tried to unsee them.  

Then he started noticing his dreams were being invaded by an outside source.  They started to veer towards subject matter that was abnormal to his normal train of thoughts.  Strangers would look at him with recognition, and often be holding those symbols he saw in the media, and now in his dreams.  It wasn’t long before his acquaintances would bring up weird subjects, as well as his students and family, like dark matter and time traveling.  They started questioning him about his personal life and even his intimate life.  He was sure they were watching him on video survey-lance in his bedroom, car and even bathroom.  He started losing money in the stock market, in which he usually did quite well.  Everything took a serious turn on him, and he thought these glasses might have something to do with it, especially when he started to notice a change in Susan and Joseph.

As he slept on the plane, he again started to have an unfamiliar dream.  It was a forced projection of an underground city.  The city was abandoned and underwater.  He was looking for gold treasure.  He was able to breathe underwater and move almost like normal, dressed in a business suit.  He started noticing the sea life as he was digging and moving old cars and T.V.’s.  At first, they were sea horses and clown fish, turtles and dolphins.  Then the dream became more aggressive, with sharks and octopuses swimming around him.  He didn’t panic, but rather kept digging and moving man made objects out of the way.  Soon he found a golden crown with jewels from around the world inside of a treasure chest of gold.  The last thing he remembers is a vast amount of piranhas that began to eat the sharks.  Then he woke up.  

He had landed and found himself in Egypt.  He made his way through the city as he took in the sights.  It was still vaguely familiar.  He remembered the heat as the taxi sat in traffic.  It seems he found the taxi with no air conditioner.  He cracks open the wind in hopes there is a breeze.  A boy shows up and speaking broken English, shows him a basket of Egypt memorabilia.  Included are buttons, flags, key chains, maps, travel guides and toy robots.  The robots are programmed with three patriotic saying from Egypt, about the size of a palm.  He decided to go with a travel guide, just to have something to mark in as he makes his way to the shop he was anxious to find again.  

They finally make it to the Hotel.  Famished and jet lagged, he decides to check in and clean up, before ordering room service and taking a nap.  When he wakes up, it is around midnight in Egypt.  He decides to start working on his paper on Carl Yung.  It started off being a dissertation on the connection of the pyramids and dreams.  He’s been working on it for a while.  

 Chapter Four

La Dama

 Noon, he arrives at the shop.  To his surprise, it is exactly how he remembers.  It’s as if nothing had changed.  The little old man behind the counter was now missing.  The smell of incense fills the air as the low light of candles and sunlight through drapes reveal the many treasures on the shelves.  Books, jewelry, small statues made of multiple precious materials, dolls, intricate boxes of craftsmanship, tapestry’s, and crystals fill most of the store.  He doesn’t remember it having so many highly expensive commodities.  

A woman’s voice pierces the low cultural music’s atmosphere.  She is a tall, slender Egyptian beauty unrivaled by any woman he has ever seen.  Her slow movement and warm honey voice asks if she can help him in her native tongue.  She wears a gown of royalty and the jewelry to match.  He is astonished that she would be in such an occupation in such a hidden place.  He hesitates to answer, forgetting what he came to do.  She smiles and speaks in English, asking the same question.  Somehow that breaks his spell, and he quickly fumbles a response.  He greets her and complements her on her beauty and her shop.  She responds humbly. 

He then begins to speak in Egyptian, and asks about the old man, and tells her the story of when he was last in the shop.  Her gaze seems to penetrate into his mind.  Uneasy, his level of breathing begins to heighten and he accidentally bumps into a relic with his elbow as he was reaching for the glasses to show her.  A vase falls, breaking their connection.  A man, seemingly from no where appears as he caches the vase before hitting the floor.  A tall burly man with a thick beard dressed in traditional Egyptian regalia, stands next to him with a smile, holding the vase.  He speaks in English with a thick accent in a deep voice, and greets the American, commenting on how he looks like an Egyptian himself as he sets down the vase in the fallen spot.  

Alfonso gathers himself, and returns the greeting.  Forgetting about the glasses, he asks if the previous owner was anywhere near.  The woman answers, explaining that she is the granddaughter of the man he speaks of and that she is now the caretaker of the shop.  The man next to them is her cousin and co-owner of the store as well.  She continues about the store, as she talks about the importance of each object and the ancient ties they have to their country.  She asks about the glasses, if he had them with him.  He decides to lie and say he didn’t, and that he was looking for another pair as a gift.  Although her look of disbelief gives him the feeling that he made the right choice, and the shiftiness of her cousin.  She smiles and asks for his hand.

Not thinking, he adheres, as she turns it over and looks at his palm.  He starts to think he is in some kind of movie.  They are interrupted by an FBI looking middle aged white male, a Magnum P.I. look alike, mustache and all.  He walks in loud and obnoxious, greeting the other three.  Both the men are 6 feet plus tall, with burly builds.  They look at each other with a quick size up in who would win in a fight.  Alfonso gently detracts his hand and offers a smile and thank you for her time in Egyptian.  Everything in his body says to leave and that it was a bad idea to have told them about the glasses.  With everything wrong in the States, he sees that all his problems had followed him here; but now worse.  She breaks the tension by offering him a gift before he leaves.  She gives him an antique watch from WW II.  She says, it is a special watch from her grandfather.  From reading his palm, she can see that he has an important destiny, and that their paths were meant to meet.  

He again is hypnotized by her beauty as she speaks, and he accepts the gift.  As he begins to walk away, he gives a nod to her cousin, in a short appreciation manly way and says goodbye in Egyptian.  It is returned.  He walks by the CIA looking fella and has a greeting moment.   The man gives him a grunt and a half smile as they walk past each other.  Alfonso’s not sure what to think as he makes his way back to the motel.  Now he knows there is more to these glasses, and it might be worse than he thought.  He recalls on what she said about Destiny and how they were meant to cross paths.  It doesn’t give him any reassurance in his future well being, both physically or spiritually.  He forgets all about the watch as he searches for a place to get a strong drink and get his mind off of his troubles.  

 Chapter Five

Age Si Quod Agis

 He drinks a beer and an occasional shot of Whiskey.  He thinks to himself how he got into this mess.  He’s almost lost his job to his arch nemesis, he’s starting to see things everywhere, like the world went crazy or has always been some kind of twilight zone.  How he ended up in Egypt with the American Feds following him, along with some crazy mystical woman doing some spells on him.  He’s almost forty with no wife and doesn’t see his son enough.  He still hasn’t gotten his Doctorate.  His career measures into banging twenty something year old hot chicks and women at bars mad at their husbands or boyfriends, teaching about things that already happened, that will never happen again, seeing humanities dark secrets that somehow invaded his dreams and secretly rule the world in plain sight, and now they are keeping tabs on him.  Oh, and his ex is financial, and relationship wise, doing better than him.  Not to forget his Greek ex girlfriend that he fell in love with, moved away and got with some Ashton Kutcher looking douche bag with Daddies money.   He trying to think if he forgot anything. 

Then his self loathing pity party is interrupted by a twenty something year old blonde Swiss model in a red dress, like something out of an 80’s rock video.  As he was sitting at the bar, eating chips and salsa, watching soccer on the screen behind the bar, the young woman squeezes in on his left side, pressing her body on his.  She smells really good.  In her Swiss accent, she orders a Stella and three for her friends.  He can’t help but look to see who her friends are.  A group of female models, all more gorgeous than the next.  He didn’t notice how the bar had gotten full and the crowd was a rowdy one.  He starts to hear a live band doing sound check on the patio.  The woman makes eye contact with him and gives him a glowing smile, enough for him to forget his troubles.  She offers him a shot of Whiskey.  She says its her birthday and he should join her and her friends to go see the band.  

After everything that he’s been through, he takes the shot with the girl and wishes her a happy birthday, but is about to decline the band, as the other girls surround him and he finds himself helpless to join in the group of giggling European models from France, Russia and Spain.  As the night continues, they are dancing, laughing, grinding, kissing and touching.  The girls go to the bathroom and he has a moment to realize he shouldn’t be here.  He looks around, and realizes he is drunk.  One of the girls grabs his jacket sleeve and leads him to the bathroom.  They are doing some lines, and he joins in.  Now he knows he shouldn’t be there.  Two of the girls start kissing as the other two prepare more lines.  Alfonso starts talking to himself, weighing the options, and is wondering how his luck has changed.  He begins to smile.  

Suddenly he hears loud bursts, sounding like gun fire.  He thinks it might be the band and it must be the drugs.  One of the girls starts arousing him and kissing his neck.  She is the french girl with bangs, long legs and mini skirt.  As he forgets the band, he notices his refection in the mirror.  The only thing is, he only sees his reflection.  The door bursts open as that same American agent is dragging three punk rock looking vampires along with him, with his guns firing.  Immediately the women turn into monsters, fangs flairing, eyes glowing, claws out.  He fucking panics.  He has never seen anything like this.  He is pushed into the stalls, or jumps in one, he’s not sure, nor cares.  He hits his head on the toilet seat.  Bleeding from his hairline, he sees vampire heads bursting, people flying into walls, bullets ricocheting, curses blurted, drugs flying, things set on fire.  He thinks it must be the drugs.  This is impossible, somehow he is having a bad trip.  

As all hell breaks loose, the vampire demon french girl sticks her head into the stall and goes to his head off.  His reflexes make his legs up-kick her face and jaw towards the ceiling.  Her scaled marble skin almost breaks his ankles.  Her head explodes as he gets to his feet.  The American agent rustles him out of the bathroom as he continues shooting.  Alfonso sees that most of the crowd has rushed away, and the bar is left in shambles with a��small group of male vampires surround them.  They look like the bouncers.  He is still not sure if he is hallucinating, but everything in his body is saying that this is real.  He picks up a pool stick, breaks it in half, and follows the lead of the Magnum P.I. looking guy with the guns.  

They make their way towards the door, taking out vampires left and right.  He uses bottles from the bar with lighters and candles on the bartenders vampire face, legs of chairs in hearts and skulls.  He finds a gun from one of the dead vampire bouncers.   They make it out and get a ride from a female counterpart to palm tree shirt wearing guy.  It’s a yellow DeLorean or Lamborgini. He gets stuck squeezing in the middle.  The make it to the highway.  As he sees out the passenger window, there are flying winged vampires diving next to them.  The woman driver makes hast with quick turns and twists through tunnels and alleys to lose or damage the flying guests.  

They seem to go through an underground tunnel, and make an entrance to a boating dock.  They rush on one of the larger vessels, and are hurdled through some kind of secret doorway shoot.  But before they make the door closes behind them, a sailor vampire makes it through.  They tussle with the vampire in a mini submarine.  They dare not shoot, in odds of damaging the controls or hull.  Hand to hand combat with a vampire is never good.  The agents use their knives and prowess, but in the end they are only human.  In such close quarters, they kill the vampire decapitation, but the Hawaiian shirt guy is dead, and the woman is gravely injured.  The death blow came from Alfonso as he used one of their knives that he clenches with closed fist at the end of the battle.  She looks at him with the hardened stare of a soldier that has been through multiple wars.  They make their way to a Greece. 

Along the way, she briefs him on who they are and what their mission is.  She explains that a secret war has been going on for quite some time, and there is a world agency that has been dealing with the supernatural, unbeknownst to the normal world.  In the last fifty years there has been a steady incline of those ancient beings taking political power and military positions to start a war.  Instead of working in the dark, they are casting spells and recruiting humans to their fold through money, breeding, assassinations, social networking, new drugs, food and water contamination.  They have become so powerful around the world, that they are starting to openly reveal a sinister government, through black magic, to hypnotize the mass population.  

The agency she belongs to has been compromised and the agents are now scattered and trying to regroup secretly.  Some of them like herself are operating as mercs, doing black ops and freelance work.  They caught wind of Alfonso’s situation by riding a wave of energy leading to him and the glasses.  It is a rare energy that is dangerous to the walking dead and possessed.  She says they have a strong group in Europe that are descendants of monster hunters.  They are the ones that sent them to retrieve him and bring him back to their meeting rendezvous.  She doesn’t think she is going to make it, but the submarine is locked on the coordinates, they should be found within the hour.  He watches her pass out.  He reaches in his jacket pocket and realizes he doesn’t have anything other than his wallet and his glasses.  

[anniversary-magazine]

A Melancholic Photographic Journey — In Conversation with Charlotte Lapalus

Charlotte Lapalus is a Marseille-based photographer mainly shooting fashion editorials, portraits, landscape, interiors, and objects. Her captivating photographic style invites the viewer into a world of saturated colors and deep tones filled with mystery, beautiful scenery, poetic style, and serene portraits. Somehow lost in another world, her unique style and distinctive use of colors creates a certain melancholy and calmness throughout her work. Her strict use of muted colors adds a warm minimal aesthetic, that somehow erases or fades the perspectives within the photos, giving it a quaint expression. There exists a certain lightness to every look, as well as the models that often have these serene, dewy look, which catches light, even from the shadows. 

MH : You have stated, “French photographer until I find a real job” as the bio on your Instagram account. Distanced irony or the actual truth? What is the story behind it?

CL : I can say that my bio had a hint of irony, in the fact that I was a notary public after years of law studies, but that somehow deep inside I knew that this was not fulfilling my desire for creativity. I have always had this urge to create whether it was drawing, photography or painting and I knew that this was really what I wanted to do. I just didn’t know I could do it for a living and actually make a career out of it.

And in 2015 it all came together, I left my job, enrolled a photography school in Marseille and booked my first professional shoot 4 months after.

So really that is the story behind my bio, and for what is yet to come, people tend to say that you never know what I am going to pull out my hat next !

MH : Could you please take us back in time and tell us how and when you first become fascinated with photography?

CL : As far as I can remember, I have always been taking photos. At first it was mainly landscapes. It has been a work in progress for many years and it’s my love of photography and the different people I have met along the way that played a decisive role in my choice to change my professional path radically.

I found the work of Massimo Vitali and Raymond Depardon very inspiring when it came to landscapes. I thought that Raymond Depardon and Martin Paar work have a human dimension to them. Mainly the fact that their models play a real role in their pictures more so than Massimo Vitali in my opinion. These kind of artists inspired me to move from landscapes to models.

The work of David Hamilton and Sally Mann for example, have also inspired me in my approach to photograph models. For me their work give you a sense of fragility and sensitivity when it comes to his choice of shooting women models.

So all in all my transition from shooting mainly landscapes to shooting women models has been a natural progression. I find that as I evolved and grew as a photographer, I wanted to get closer to the women I was shooting, closer to their femininity and fragility.

MH : Does growing up in Marseille, and France in general, play any role or has it had an impact on how you create and tell stories?

CL : Probably but as I have never lived anywhere else I cannot really say. However the light and the melting pot of all the different cultures in Marseille is surely a great source of inspiration for my work.

MH : What are the basic requirements for you to create a good photo?

CL : I don’t have special requirements as such, but I think that in order to create a good photo, the prep for the shooting is key: the story telling, the location, the cast…

The most important for me is the lighting and the work around it, I spend a lot of time fine tuning it on a shoot. The team plays a huge role in creating a good photo too, working all together with the same purpose is my moto.

MH : Your use of saturated colors, deep tones and shadow seem to play an important role throughout your work. Can you tell us more about your creative approach to image making?

CL : I can say that I do have a real predilection for a certain color palet for my pictures, but I do not feel that saturated colors are that important in my work. I tend to work with warm colors.

I do feel that my approach to image making is considering the shoot as a whole. I think that it comes with good prep to the shoot, from finding the perfect location, to casting the best model for the job and the choice of the stylist. So in that sense, I really see the making of a good photo as a team effort too.

I do find my inspiration for a shoot from a lot of different creative sources such as poetry, paintings and movies. The idea of the story I want to tell on the shoot mainly comes from a feeling or something subtle that I have seen or felt when thinking about it.

“I do find my inspiration for a shoot from a lot of different creative sources such as poetry, paintings and movies. The idea of the story I want to tell on the shoot mainly comes from a feeling or something subtle that I have seen or felt when thinking about it.”

— Charlotte Lapalus

MH : When it comes to fashion photography, the choice of style, but also the overall scenery and location seems to play an important role throughout your projects. What are your focus points when arranging a picture?

CL : Again, for me the crucial thing is the light. I would position the model and try and find the best angle or place to shoot her with regards to the light.

The other thing that I like to focus on is my communication with the model. I always try and talk to them and direct them as best as possible in order for them to understand and transpose the vision I have for the shoot the best they can. I like for them to understand my approach to the shoot and for that I like to communicate the overall vision I have of the character they are portraying. In other words I ask them to be the character. I like what I call « accidents », when they are not necessarily posing but just being, these photos are usually the ones I select during my edit.

MH : How do you choose your projects? And what project are your personal favourite?

CL : I choose my projects depending on how much I can get involved in the creative process. I like to be inspired but also add something to a campaign. These projects are the ones that I tend to go for as I feel free to express my vision for the shoot.

As for personal favourite the one that comes to my mind is the one I made for a French Charity called « Autour de l’enfant ». This charity is active in Africa and they look after women and children, their wellbeing and their education. This project is really close to my heart as it involves creativity but also humanity. I am going back to Africa soon for another shoot with regards to women rights when it comes to excision.

MH : When I look at your captivating imagery, I often get a reminiscent to David Lynch’s iconic television series, Twin Peaks. Part of your work is like delving into a contemporary fashion editorial taken from the ever-mysterious world of Dale Coopers investigation in what happened to Laura Palmer. What are you inspired by, and where do you get your inspiration from?

CL : Thank you for comparing my work to David Lynch’s series! I am very flattered with your comparison, even if Twin Peaks was not my main source of inspiration. Although I do admit that the atmosphere in Lynch’s series is really close to the one I try to realize in my shoots. It’s the obscure ambiance that you can find in Lynch’s work that I like, the fact that it makes you ask yourself questions about the over all ambiance.

I do find a lot of my inspiration in different movies. The one director that I do particularly like is Xavier Dolan, I love his esthetic approach to the image. The light in his movies is soft and subtle. I like the fact that his direction of actors transpose in his movies, their acting is powerful but also brittle in a way.

I am also inspired by American series such as Mad Men or Fargo. The scenes are like a succession of photographies. As for the scene setting of my photos I am inspired by the resourcefulness of the French cinema, in the sense that with a strong intention and not necessarily a big budget you can still tell a good story.

MH : Working with photography, I assume you have to be comfortable and good with people in terms of interacting and collaborating closely on set with tight deadlines, high expectations on delivery and so forth. When working intensively with all these different people on various projects, both in front and behind the lense, do you follow any guidelines? Or how do you manage and direct in such a situation?

CL : I don’t have guidelines as such. The mere fact that it is a creative process means that there is no organisation as such. I feel like a conductor of well put together « bordel » or organized chaos.

But indeed you do need a minimum of organization. I do believe that as long as you communicate efficiently and in a respectful manner you can ask for anything you need on a shoot.

My experience as a notary public as given me this structure in a way. I did have to manage a panel of different people and skills and it still does serves me in my life now.

It can be very stressful to be the main focal person to whom every one is depending in terms of which direction the shoot is suppose to take, but I feel that focusing on the shoot and what I want to achieve keeps me grounded.

“I feel that focusing on the shoot and what I want to achieve keeps me grounded.”

— Charlotte Lapalus

MH : Visual content takes more and more place in our digital lifes. Living in a digital age the tendency towards an insatiable desire for visual consumption is rapidly growing — a so-called exhibitionism trend highly promoted through social medias and especially Instagram. What are your opinions on the way people are exposed to, and not least digest visual content today?

CL : « Ou la la « I can honestly say that for me it’s a very broad debate! But I do feel that due to the fact that we live more than ever in a virtual world, the amount of visual information that we see on a daily basis can be overpowering. We see a lot but we don’t retain much.

However it allows us to discover new artists, opinions and different vision of things. In a way it allowed me to do this interview today… The fact that we are served this enormous amount of visual content can lead us to laziness when it comes to explore new arts. I do feel that it is very important to keep our curiosity by going to the cinema, theatre and exhibitions.

When it comes to exhibitionism I do think that it is not the apps such as Instagram that promote that but mainly the users. For me some things are private and it is common sense. The users choose to expose their lives, but Instagram for example is just a way of doing so. Personally I made the choice not to expose myself but just my work. I do not feel the need to exhibit my personal life to the public.

MH : Tea or Coffee?

CL : Neither, mainly water.

MH : Sunrise or sunset?

CL : Sunset.

MH : Summer or Winter?

CL : Summer, having grown in the South of France…

All images courtesy of Charlotte Lapalus

#Charlotte Lapalus #Photographer #Fashion #Landscapes #Editorials #Portraits #Marseille #France #Paris #Featured