#me getting emotional about prints of people who lived twenty thousand years ago

[huntertales]

Part Four: There’s Always Hope. (As Time Goes By S08E12)

Episode Summary: Sam, Dean and the reader are surprised when a man who claims to be Henry Winchester, the boys’ grandfather, suddenly appears in their motel room closet demanding to know where he can find John. Henry has time traveled to the future to stop a demon named Abbadon. Through their grandfather, the brothers and the reader learn more about their bloodline and legacy. The reader even learns about her father, Andrew, and his own past that turned him into a demon. Word Count: 5,667. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

By the afternoon you and Sam were in Lebanon, the hometown to Larry Ganem for the past few  decades since the attack that took the lives of his friends. Larry was an old man now from his white hair and slower mobility, and while he was no one hundred and twenty seven year old, he felt like it from the emotional turmoil he carried for the past several decades after what he was forced to witness. When you and Sam introduced yourselves with the reason why you were here in the first place, you gave him a story about how you came to know of him from the journal you and the younger Winchester found while going through some old things.

The little white lie was enough for you to be ushered inside and into the living room where you were told to get comfortable on the couch while Larry took a seat on his arm chair. You and Sam continued on with the conversation, giving the man much information that you knew to get him to start talking without going into full detail about how his friend Henry was still very much alive and kicking. You gave Mrs. Ganem a polite smile when she arrived back from the kitchen after she fetched all of you some tea, making sure to mumble a thank you when she poured you a cup. You were careful not to spill or drop the cup when you reached for the fine china and took a sip.

"So, Henry is dead." Larry repeated the unfortunate news that brought you and Sam here in the first place. You gave him your condolences at the sad information you needed him to believe was the truth. "I was so sure that he had survived."

“Yes, well, like we said—we found his journal and were hoping you could fill in the gaps for and explain to us what happened that night in 1958.” Sam went on, hopeful the older man would give you any sort of helpful information. But it seemed he wanted to leave it all in the past, not seeing the point of dragging skeletons out of the closet after so long.

Larry scoffed, a bitterness coming over him at the past he tried so long to forget. “It doesn’t matter. They’re gone. We’re gone.”

“But Abaddon is not.” You reminded the man of the enemy you had in common, the demon both of you had tried to take down in your lifetimes.

“Abaddon was a hired gun. She killed us all that one night.” Larry said. You weren’t the type of person who liked to get mouthy with people, especially with those trying to help. But you found yourself making a remark about how everyone might have died, even one who probably wished he suffered the same fate as his fellow friends. But the man didn’t get away scot free. “She blinded me. It's a miracle I survived.”

Mrs. Ganem comforted her husband as she placed an arm on his shoulder, Larry felt around for his wife’s hand and brought it up to his lips to give her skin a soft kiss. Larry looked back over in your direction. “But she did not get what she came for.”

“The box.” Sam said, knowing exactly what Larry was referencing. The younger Winchester cut right to the chase of why you were here in the first place. “Listen, Abaddon is here, and she wants this thing. So we need to know everything there is to know about it.”

“In the box is the key to every object, scroll, spell ever collected for thousands of years under one roof.” Larry explained to the both of you. You felt your gaze drop slightly in surprise at what you were hearing. “It is the supernatural mother lode.”

“So... Abaddon wants the key so she can get her hands on it.” You took a wild guess as to what that might mean if the demon got her way.

“Can you imagine what she would do with that?” Larry chuckled to himself, you didn’t find any of this a bit funny.

“So, how do we stop her?” Sam asked the man. “How do we stop Abaddon?

“You don't.” Larry’s answer took you a bit by surprise. It wasn’t the one you wanted to hear. But you were beginning to understand why she put in so much effort to get her hands on the box. Larry pulled out a pad and pen from his sides to write down something and then tear off the piece of paper. Sam grabbed it from the man when he outstretched his hand in front of his face. “Throw it in. Shut the door forever. And walk away.”

“Wait, why would we do that?” You questioned him and the stupid idea he was suggesting.

“Because it is the safest place on earth, warded against any evil ever created. It is impervious to any entry, except the key.” Larry went on about this place, only making your curiosity peek even more. And your desire to get Abbadon out of the way so she couldn’t get her grubby hands on it. This place was something that seemed like a gold mind for a hunter, even a Men of Letters. You reminded Larry if you and Sam were to do such a thing all of that knowledge and resource would be gone forever. “And that is the price we have to pay for keeping it away from Abaddon.”

Your expression hardened slightly as you set down your cup of tea back to the saucer. “Uh, do you mind if I use the powder room?”

Your bladder wasn't what it used to be since you became pregnant. Much as you wanted to keep participating in this conversation, the baby was demanding for you to pee. Mrs. Ganem pointed you down the hall and instructed you to take the first door on the left. You thanked her once again and pushed yourself back up to your feet, leaving Sam alone for him to carry on with the conversation until you got back.

There had to be a way to take down Abbadon once and for all. No demon was impervious to death. The knife might not have worked on her and the last time you saw the colt was when Dean accidentally dropped it back in the wild west. All options that were your to go method of taking down powerful black eyed monsters like herself. Maybe this supposed place where all sorts of information and objects could help you figure out a way to stop Abbadon. All you needed to go was get out of here, find Dean and make your way to the location that Larry gave you. There was still the matter of Henry and where he ended up in all of this. But it was one problem at a demon. Demon first, grandfather second.

You made your way out of the bathroom just a few short minutes later with your bladder not calling for your attention until it decided what next important occasion would be perfect to pull your attention away from. As you were about to make your way back into the living room, you casually peered down the hall and looked at the photographs hanging up on the walls. All though Larry lost his sight over fifty years ago, that didn't stop his wife from making it look homey best that she could. You found your gaze stopping at a door that was cracked just the slightest while the rest of the them in the halls were shut. You knew the right thing to do was go back into the living room and head out while you still had time that made you one step ahead against Abbadon. You weren't known to do what was logical when your curiosity was being tested. You told yourself little peek wouldn't hurt. You quietly made your way down the hall and approached the door, slowly pushing it open and peeked inside to see that it was in fact an office. It was a cozy little room with a desk and reading chair, along with all sorts of books. It seemed out of sorts, like someone was searching for something. You approached the desk when you noticed all sorts of papers were spread around the place along with the chair pulled out, as if someone had been sitting there. You picked up a few pieces of paper to notice almost all of them were death certificates and newspaper clippings, all having to do about the fire on August 12th, 1958. You furrowed your brow slightly as to why Larry would have them. Maybe he wanted to keep some sort of file on the Men of Letters, thinking he he was the last generation after his fellow friends were slaughtered. Maybe he remembered one of them had made it out alive with dire consequences.

You pushed a few more pieces of paper around until you caught sight of a familiar name catch your eye. You picked up the marriage license to one Andrew and Ella Y/L/N. For a momentary nt you wondered why he would have such a thing. It seemed Larry wanted to know how his old friend ended up. But you noticed the paper still felt warm, as if someone had just printed it... “Didn’t your father teach you not to poke your nose where it didn’t belong?”

You heard a feminine voice come from behind you, making you realize you weren't alone anymore. For a split second you thought it was Mrs. Ganem who was standing behind you after she caught you snooping around in her husband's study after you were gone longer than you should have been. You were all prepared to make an apology, but when you turned around to face her, the woman wasn't who you were expecting. The smile on your face disappeared when you caught sight of the red hair. You really should have seen this one coming.

“Abbadon.” You whispered the demon’s name.

“And you must be Y/N, Andrew’s daughter. I always wondered what happened to him. Glad to see he got himself laid and started a little family.” Abbadon said. She noticed the papers you were holding, making her lips stretch into a slight smirk. "It's amazing what you kids put out there these days. Anyone can type in a name to a computer and find out just about everything on them. The old bag of bones knew enough to help me figure a few things out."

"If you're looking for the key, I don't have it. Sorry to disappoint.I know how much of an effort you put into getting your fifty hands on it.” You said. thinking that's why she followed you and Sam here in the first place and not going after Henry like you figured. “After all, you turned my father into a demon just to go after the box. And I know how hard you have to get your hands dirty to do that.”

“I can only imagine what kind of nonsense Henry filled your head with. There's a reason why I did that. Let's just say I gave him a punishment that fit the crime." Abbadon said. You narrowed your eyes slightly on the demon from what she meant. "Your daddy wasn't a very nice man, Y/N. If you help me get that key, I promise I’ll tell you why...and I'll kill you and your friend quickly."

You might be able to kill her like how you wanted, but there was one trick you didn't get to try yet to buy you some time before she crawled her way back out of hell. You began to whisper the exorcism spell underneath your breath, expecting any sort of reaction out of her to help let you know it was working. But you felt the words dying on your lips when you got halfway through and realized she wasn't even flinching. This was one of the moments that you knew you were in deep crap. You swallowed slightly as you tried to figure out a possible way out of this one. Before you could do anything, Abbadon made her move. All you remembered was a blow to the head and darkness engulfing your vision.

+ + +

Dean made it to the hoodoo shop right as his grandfather was about to make the foolish mistake of trying to go back in time to fix the mistakes he made. Henry wanted to give his son the life he deserved after he read through the man's journal, discovering all the heartbreak and tragedy he had to live through. It was Henry's fatherly instinct that made him want to try to play around with time to go back right before all of this mess started. He wanted to be there for his son. He wanted to try and fix the mistakes that he thought was his to blame for, not realizing if he did so his own grandchildren might not exist. But that was the price he was willing to pay.

Dean would be the first one to admit that he had done a lot of stupid things for the sake of family if it meant they were okay. He put his own life on the line and went to hell. But there was no way he was going to let his grandfather try to fix his problems. And things were only about to get worse for the people he loved the most. The argument between Henry and Dean was momentarily stopped when he heard his phone start to ring, and at the sight of the caller I.D., it was his little brother. He innocently suspected that it was about this damn box that was causing a whole lot of fuss. But the laughter that came from the other line made a sense of dread come over him.

"No. Much sexier. Try again." The demon said, thinking all of this was funny. Dean felt his grip around the phone tighten as he spoke her name in a venomous tone. "Good boy. Now listen up—I want to make a good, old-fashion horse trade. Henry and the key. In exchange, I’ll happy return your brother and little girlfriend. Or they die. Are we clear?”

Demons always had the same idea when it came to making one of them do what they want; dangle the feet of someone they cared about and watch as they squirmed, forfeiting all of their morals for the sake of a happy ever after without bloodshed. Dean unwillingly agreed. "On the road to Larry's there's a processing plant. Don't keep me waiting."

Dean ended the call after he was giving instructions that were too simple to mess up. Henry could tell from his grandson's facial expression that something was amiss. "Abbadon has Sam and Y/N?"

“She wants to trade you and the key for Sam and Y/N’s life.” Dean told his grandfather the circumstances he was going to have to follow. And while the older Winchester was willing to do just about anything to make sure you and his brother were safe and sound, his grandfather didn’t think the trade off was far. He thought he could fix things his way.

“If I could just go back,” Henry tried to persuade the younger man to letting him do this and fix all the mistakes he thought he caused. “stop this all from happening.”

“And what if you can't?” Dean questioned his grandfather. Henry fell silent. “I can't take that risk—not with Sammy and Y/N on the hook now.”

“I can't abandon my son, Dean! Not again!” Henry raised his voice, his own guilt and sorrow taking over his motives. What he was about to do was selfish and cruel, but he hurt his son and someone he once called a friend. There was no way he was going to make that mistake again. “I need to do this. I'm sorry.”

Henry turned his back to his grandson and began to continue with the ritual as he put his entire focus on making sure all of this was done right. Dean already decided on what to do. He came up from behind and put Henry into a chokehold, putting pressure on the man’s airway until it was cut off. A few moments later he felt Henry’s body go limp in his arms. What he was about to do was selfish. Trading one life for another. But he would do anything he had to make sure his real family was okay in the end of all of this.

+ + +

It was the drive halfway to Lebanon when Henry woke up to find himself in the passenger side of the Impala, his grandson behind the wheel. His throat felt like someone had choked him, the pieces weren’t too hard to connect together to figure out what was going on here. Dean made the consecutive decision to save his little brother and friend because it was what he thought was right. If Henry had his way none of this would be happening. He’d be back in his own year, packing up his wife and son up to hit the road. But it seemed Dean wasn’t that good of a hunter if he was willing to bargain with a demon. “Sorry about that.” Dean tried to apologize the violent behavior he had to use in order to get his grandfather to do what he wanted. Just because the man was trying to be sincere didn’t mean he meant what he said. “No, you're not.“ Henry muttered, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “You've wanted to do that since we met.” “Henry, you need to understand something. When my dad died, I couldn't save him...no matter how bad I wanted to. I never want that to happen to Sam. Ever. And Y/N...we lost her once before. We thought we were never gonna get her back. That feeling...it felt like someone took half of me. Never in my life do I want to feel that again.” Dean admitted his true reasons for why he was doing all of this. His drastic measures was the same reason why Henry was willing to change time. “If there's a chance that I can save the both of them, I'm gonna do it. Sammy’s my brother. And we’re the only thing Y/N has close to family.”

In all honesty, Dean understood his grandfather's urge to protect his son from the dangers that he would eventually have to overcome. It was the fatherly instinct in Henry that made him want to give John the life he deserved, and it was the same reason why Dean was willing to do anything for his little brother. He spent his entire life raising Sam and doing everything in his power to make sure he was all right. And Dean would do anything for you if it meant you were okay. He would put his own life on the line if it meant you made it out alive.

+ + +

It was a simple trade off that would leave both parties satisfied; Abbadon would get the box and Henry to do what she pleased, you and Sam went off on your merry way with Dean, never to look back again. That's what the plan was. But you've never met a demon who held up their end of the bargain without taking everything they wanted. Dean should have known better than to try and make a deal with a demon and think all of you were going to get out of here alive. What other choice did he have than to do what Abbadon wanted? She was undefeatable. He could only play along and hope for the best. You couldn't say you wouldn't do the same if it were him standing in your position with his little brother.

You watched from your spot in the middle of the warehouse, a good distance from the sliding door that was the only way out of this place from what you could tell, as Dean walked in sync with the trade offering. This was the stupidest thing that you might have ever done. You really hoped Dean wasn't stupid enough to fall for the demon's trick. He still had no idea what the key lead to and how much at stake was here. That stupid little box was more trouble than what it was worth. And soon it might the only thing that would save you and your unborn child's lives.

“Abbadon! I’ll send Henry over here with the box.” Dean called out to the demon. He took the box out from his jacket pocket to show her and reassure he wasn't trying to pull any tricks. All of you watched as he slipped it into the pocket in his grandfather's pocket. "You do the same with Y/N and Sam. No tricks."

"My only interest is Henry and the key." Abbadon reassured the older Winchester. "Once I make sure I have both, you three are free to go."

It was all on Henry to make the first move, but the man stood where he was. You furrowed your brow slightly as a sense of dread began to come over you. Part of you wondered if all of this was some kind of trick, but Henry's hesitation made you start to think otherwise. Dean wasn't in the mood for any of this. "You do this standing," Dean pulled out his gun and showed it to his grandfather. "Or you can do it crawling. Your call."

Henry could tell the man was serious from the threatening glare on his face and how his finger lingered on the trigger, willing to keep to his promise if his grandfather didn't do what he wanted. He unwillingly made the first step forward, giving Abbadon confidence that the hunter was stupid enough to negotiate. She held up her end of the bargain when she let go Sam from the force she had on him, nodding her head for him to get a move on it. Sam opened his mouth, trying to get her to let you go first, but you shook your head, wanting him to get moving before she changed her mind. Sam let out a sigh and began walking across the warehouse and to his brother who stood on the opposite side.

When he crossed paths with his grandfather, he couldn't help himself but say sorry at how all of this had to be. Henry didn't want to hear any of it. The boys' end of the deal was taken care of when Henry made it over to Abbadon with the box still in his pocket from what you could tell. And while things looked to be fair, you knew all of this was about to hit the fan when you heard a sudden echo of metal crashing from across the warehouse, making you realize Abbadon had no intention of letting you and the boys go. You saw this one coming, and yet you were still pissed.

“We had a deal!” Dean yelled at the demon, Abbadon could only laugh at the hunter.

"Surprise." Abbadon taunted the man. "I lied."

Abbadon was about to prove that she wasn't someone to be messed with. Without warning, she shoved her entire hand directly into the man's stomach before roughly ripping it out, taking all of you by surprise. A gasp fell out of your mouth as you heard Sam call out his grandfather's name, his first instinct was to rush over and do something, but Dean stopped him. Abbadon thought she was so clever and funny. But her own arrogance would be her demise. The handcuffs that kept Henry's hands behind his back were easy to get out of if they weren't put on all the way. He easily slipped out of them and pulled the gun he had hidden from the demon.

"You're not the only one." Henry whispered to the demon.

It seemed Henry and Dean were one step ahead of Abbadon this entire time. Even you knew a bullet to the brain was no way to stop a demon like her unless it was from the colt. You just pissed her off even more. She didn't seem the least bit bothered her meatsuit was ruined. To her all of this was part of the fun. But little did she realize that she was powerless, you could tell from the way you suddenly felt yourself moving backwards from her.

“Whoo! What a blast. Now, give me the box.” Abbadon commanded. She reached out and slipped a hand into Henry's pocket, expecting to find the one she saw Dean slip inside, but what she pulled out was a deck of cards. Abbadon threw it to the ground as her hands clenched into fists. "Where is it?!" She screamed on the top of her lungs, showing all of you her inner beast was ready to play. Neither one of the boys said a word, but that was no problem. "Fine. We can do this the hard way."

Abbadon reached out and grabbed a hold of Henry's face so he was now facing her. She had a little trick that none of you knew about. But her powers were useless from what he did to her. She pushed him away as she let out a piercing scream, loud enough to make you flinch at how close you still were to her, but not deadly as she wanted.  Abbadon wanted nothing more than to tear all of you to shreds, when she tried to make her way forward to Henry to finish the job, her feet were stuck, causing her to question why. A slight smirk spread around your lips at what was going on here. The only way to trap a demon was in a devil's trap. And somehow they got one lodged up in her skull.

Sam tended to his grandfather when his wounds were beginning to become too much for him to even stand up on his own while Dean helped cut the ropes around your wrists. Abbadon's mood began to change as she began to laugh again. She tilted her head up slightly, her neck covered in blood. All of you had shot and stabbed her, but nothing worked. Abbadon thought she really was the winner here. "You still didn't kill me."

"No, but you'll wish we did." Dean said. He pulled out a machete and sliced her head right off her neck, making the both of them tumble to the ground. You stared down at the head to see her blink, making you realize she was in fact still alive. "The demon trap in your noggin is gonna keep you from smoking out. We're gonna cut you into little steaks and bury each strip under cement. You might not be dead, but you'll wish you were."

Henry and Dean might have started this journey not liking one another and bumping heads at each chance they got, but they sure made one hell of a team. You looked down at the man who was lying in his youngest grandson's arms as he clung to the last few minutes of his life. You saw his lips stretch into a smirk at how well their plan was executed. "We did it."

All of you knew Henry wasn't going to make it back to 1958 and fix the way things he wanted to. He wasn't going to see his son again. John was going to follow the same path that would lead all of you here. While John was going to think of his father as someone who ran out on him, you and his children got to know Henry as a hero. Someone who risked his own life to save all of you. And that was the most Henry could ask for.

“No, you did it. For a bookworm, that wasn’t bad, Henry.” Dean said, complimenting the man for the first time as he gave him a smile. His grandfather weakly chuckled.

"I'm sorry I judged you two so harshly for being hunters. I should have known better. You're also Winchesters. By blood or not. As long as we're alive, there's always hope." Henry used his last precious moments of life as an attempt to undo the judgement he caused on his grandson and yourself. You blamed your pregnancy half the time for your influx of emotions, but you knew the reason why your eyes were starting to glaze over was because of having to see him like this. "I didn't know my son as a man, and I might not have been there for Andrew, but having met you three...I know I would have been proud of him."

You lost count how many times you've seen people die right in front of your eyes. But it never got any easier. You felt your heart sink when you saw Henry drift off just a few moments later, succumbing to his injuries. Another person you and the boys cared about was taken from you, all because of some damn box. Your eyes drifted away from the man and to the wooden box that Sam held in his hands. Whatever this thing lead to, no life was important enough to be risk to keep it safe. The Men of Letters had three remaining members now; you, Sam and Dean.

+ + +

It only seemed fair for you and the boys to bury Henry with the rest of his friends in the cemetery where he would be put to rest. You even went through the trouble of making him a grave marker with the Men of Letters crest. Life was a funny thing and what it threw your way. You always thought you were one thing, a monster doomed for a terrible fate after your parents sabotage any sort of normal upbringing you could of had into this world. But what if that wasn't the case? What if they were just trying to do their hardest to bring some good into this world, but it was tainted by the devil himself?

Heaven brought your parents together for a reason. Maybe it wasn't because of the apocalypse. Maybe it was for the original plan God wanted the entire time, for Lucifer to see the good in the things he hated. Love was a beautiful and complicated thing. But Lucifer had a cold heart. You wondered if he didn't care at all. He pulled the strings of fate to make you this way. And your parents did what they could to protect you from the things they hunted. Demons like Azazel and Abbadon after they lured their victims into the traps Lucifer set for them from being turned and selling souls to have a child after so many heartbreaking disappointments.

You were starting to realize that soon enough you were going to be in your mother's position with John's worries. Soon there was going to be a child that was yours. And you were going to have to do everything in your power to make sure they were all right.

“I get it now.” Sam spoke up after a moment of silence fell between the three of you. You turned your gaze away from the grave and to the younger man to hear what he had to say. “What Cupid said about Heaven busting ass to get Mom and Dad together. The Winchesters and the Campbells—the brains and the brawn.”  

“Well, I’m glad you see it. All I see in our family tree is a whole lot of dead.” Dean's angsty remark seemed exactly what you expected him to say. But it made you subconsciously press a hand against your stomach, knowing death was no stranger to your side of the family. And more than just relatives. Dean took his hand out of his pocket when he felt his fingers brush against a piece of paper. “Hey, I found this in Henry’s wallet.”

You leaned over to see that it was a picture of John and his father. A smile crept along the ends of your lips at how adorable he looked. And so innocent. Dean handed it over for his brother to take a look at it. “Dad looks happy.”

“Kind of makes you wish he knew the truth, huh? I mean, all those years thinking his old man ditched him when the poor son of a bitch really came here to save our bacon.” Dean said. There was no denying any aspect of your life was normal, there was always a twist to it. “Freaking time travel, man.”

“You think it would have made a difference?” Sam asked. You and his brother looked at him with a bit of a confused expression, wondering what he meant by that. “Dad. If he had his own father around.”

“What, in how he raised us?” Dean wondered if that’s what his brother meant. “Sammy, he did the best he could.”

“I know that. I do.” Sam mumbled. “They all did.”

You let out a sigh as you crossed your arms over your chest. Sam realized that the journey wasn't over just yet. He pulled something out of his pocket that made you grow furious from looking at it. And another part of you curious as to what the fuss was all about. "What are the chances that place is still standing?"

"It's a chance we've got to take, I guess. Even though ever part of me wants to throw that thing into the damn ocean and never see it again.” You said. You reached out and grabbed the box from Sam to take a hold of the thing that caused so much trouble, so much death. "I mean, we are legacies, right? This is ours much as it was Henry's and my father's. Let's see what the fuss is about."

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[pernatius]

Forgive Me: Ch 3

Ch 2

Summary: A psychologist tortures prisoners to avenge the death of his sister.

Attempting to once again write 10k words within a week.

—————

Removing the scalpel gets Twenty to grunt. Drenched in blood, he swings it over to the warden. “How dare you call me by that name?”

The warden heads closer to the psychologist, into the light. He walks until the blade is poking his shirt. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You may be old, but your eyes aren’t that bad yet. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“He’s only a twenty.”

“So, what? When have numbers determined anything?”

“When have numbers not determined anything? Joseph, for the past thirty years, numbers have determined every single move we’ve made.”

“Well, things have changed. They’ve changed just like you.” He turns his attention back to Twenty and swings his arm back. Before the blade can sink into Twenty’s chest again, a hand grabs onto his wrist. Turning around, he looks into the warden’s eyes. As he tries fighting free, he continues, “After everything we’ve been through, you still feel sympathy for people like him?”

“Of course I do. That man barely did anything wrong. Sure, he tried to rob a small, family-owned business, but he at least didn’t harm anyone inside. He kept his humanity as he did it, unlike the others, unlike the higher numbers.”

Flinging his arm away from both the warden and Twenty, “It doesn’t matter what he didn’t do. What matters is what he did. What he did was pull a gun to the cashier’s son.”

“Yes, but you read the same report as I did. His arm was shaking, He wasn’t going to do it. He was too scared to.”

“Are you even listening to yourself, Michael? He pointed a gun to a little boy’s chest. How can you ever feel bad for a father wanting to kill someone else’s son?”

“I’ll agree that was wrong, but he didn’t do it because he wanted to. He had to.”

“Who cares about his motivation? Everything about this is flawed.”

“They’re just as flawed as the man standing before me.”

Joseph’s face scrunched up. The hand that held the scalpel shook. Behind his frown are his grinding teeth. “If you want to say something say it already.”

“I understand your vendetta. I’ve understood it for years, Joseph, but it has to stop. Look what it’s led to. Your humanity is disappearing just like it has for the other prisoners.”

“So, you just want me to stop? Just like that? Does her death-”

“Joseph, I won’t ever feel the same pain as you have felt for these past decades, yet it’s not like I wasn’t hurt too. I’ve been hurt just as long as you have, but it’s been over. She’s gone and nothing you can do will ever bring her back.”

With that, he snapped. He shouted as he lunged the knife into Michael’s shoulder. It went straight through bone. The now wounded Micheal grabs the site. He tries to cover, stop, the bleeding with his hand as his body shook. As much pain he is in, he forces himself to look into his brother-in-law’s eyes. “Do you think,” he grunted, “Do you think she’d want this?”

Blinded by rage, Joseph slams his hand on the knife. This causes it not only to go deeper but has the older of the two to fall to his knees. Blood streamed down his hand. He tried to slow his breathing, he needed as much blood as he could muster, after all, but fear overwhelmed him. It’s fear of both the man standing on top of him and how close he is from bleeding out. This emotion is painted all over his face, but this doesn’t stop the man on top of him from pulling out the weapon. 

Even more, blood flowed out of the wound. Red masked over his brownish skin color. Again, he tried to stop it with his hand, but all it does is drench it as well. 

Before it’s able to hit Michael’s eye, he notices a recent cut underneath one of Joseph’s fingernails. His eyes widen as he moves just in time. “Guards!” They immediately come barging into the room and swarm the two of them. A handful helps the warden up and the rest grab hold of the psychologist’s arms. 

While trying to fight free he barks, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m so s-sorry, Joseph, but this is for your own good. You’re fired.”

“Fired? What? You can’t fire me.”

“I can and I will.”

“What are you going to tell people? My research? Who’s going to complete my research?”

“I’ll figure that out later, but for right now I want you out of my sight. I don’t want you anywhere near here ever again.”

“But you promised, Michael. You promi-”

“I’m going to have to break it. I’m going to have to break it like the promise I made with her,” he turns his attention to the guards lifting the now-fired psychologist, “Get him out of my sight.”

He was thrown onto the dirt lying on the other side of the prison’s gate. As they’re closing it, he scrambles to get back up. He tries to squeeze himself into the small opening between the gate and wall, but it’s too late. The gate shuts before he could. So, he shouts up to the night sky. He shouts to the dark clouds above as thunder roared. 

In his office with his bandaged up shoulder, he sits down in his chair with his hands gripping either side of his head. As he comes to terms with what he’s done, he spots his ring in the corner of his eye. Angry, but for a different reason compared to the man outside, he yanks it off of his finger and throws it. It lands into one of the dark corners of the room. Hearing the sound it made as soon as it fell, causes him to break. He cries to himself. “M-Martha,” he whimpered under his breath. 

Just like any other day the dining hall is voiceless. The sound of hundreds of utensils being used to cut and stab into their meals echo inside the hall. It was like so until one of the prisoners spoke to the hunched down Twenty sitting right across from him. “Did it really happen,” he whispered. 

“You heard it from across the hallway, Fifteen,” Twenty answered back. He takes a bite into his food.

“I know, but I didn’t think the warden would’ve actually done it. You know? Those two are pretty close.”

“Well, not so last night. He was about to kill him.” Again, he takes another bite, but he slowly chews on it. 

“I know he has a knack for torturing. I mean you’re living proof, but I didn’t think he had it in him to kill. I mean I’ve seen the guy around. If I saw him off the street I would’ve assumed he had.”

“Can you guys lower your voices? I’m not here to get in any trouble,” another prisoner at the table asked. He’s one of the youngest in the prison. He’s just eighteen, which coincidentally matches his number. 

The young adult’s eyes follow the guards pacing above them. He gulps, swallowing his food down. 

“Eighteen, relax. It’s not like you can get any more years,” Twenty tried to assure him. 

“Look,” he points his spoon to Twenty, “I just want to see my daughter again. Okay?” 

“Oh, so you’re not a virgin?”

“Why does everyone keep assuming that?” Fifteen and Twenty look him up and down with their eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Nothing,” the two responded in unison. They then quietly returned to eating. 

Someone stands in front of their table. All three of them lift their heads and follow up his bright, orange shirt. They note “One Thousand” printed in big, bold, and black letters. Moving further up, you can see that his face is covered in scars and stitches. These aren’t from his time on the other side of the prison’s gate. No, there from the countless nights the newly-fired psychologist tortured him. 

“Can I sit here?” The group doesn’t hesitate. It’s not because of some universal belief shared between the prisoners about how they see each other as equals. They did it because they feared One Thousand. All three of them are much bigger than him, but because of what he did they feared him. So, the three tensed up as soon as he sat down. They tried eating, but they shook as they did. They flinched with every bite he took, hoping not a single thing about his food would tick him off. When he opens his mouth to speak again, Fifteen yelps. “So, you guys were talking about the doctor, right?”

“Y-Yes,” Twenty answered. 

One Thousand’s eyes move from Twenty to Fifteen to Eighteen. He then sets his sandwich down, causing Fifteen to start sweating. “Relax. I’m not going to do anything to you guys.”

“We know. Of course, you wouldn’t.” Fifteen awkwardly laughs. 

One Thousand looks at him oddly. “Right. Well, is it true that the doctor is gone? I’ve heard cells talking about it. Some in the courtyard were too just an hour ago.”

“I’m not sure. Twenty should know, though.” Twenty kicks Fifteen for that remark. 

“Ow.”

One Thousand raises an eyebrow as Fifteen rubs his ankle. “I was bleeding out quite a lot. I could barely keep up, but I saw him get taken away.” Twenty sighed. 

“Well, then it must be true. If the warden called the guards on Dr. Psycho then he’s as good as gone. Hmm. That must be why the warden hasn’t shown his face all day.” A bell rings. One of the guards from above ordered the prisoners to clean up. Everyone gets up with their trays. “This is going to get interesting,” One Thousand states under his breath as he gets in line to put his tray away. 

Even with the open window and lights on the room still feels dark. It feels cold. The warden stood in front of what was once Joseph’s desk. He flipped through his notebook and binder, which is overflooded with notes. He read through them. Years’ worth of notes filled every single page. No line and especially not a single inch wasn’t used up. The warden began to feel bad because his brother-in-law was doing his job even as he did all those terrible things. He regretted his decision until he came across the page that Joseph spilled ink on. Michael had been about to flip past it, thinking it was nothing, but something under the ink splotch catches his eye.  

Crammed hundreds of times on the page is the phrase, “I’ll stop at nothing until I can repay you, Martha.” It repeated hundreds of times on both sides, but he ran out of ink way before he made it onto the backside. So, which is what gets Michael to step back, is the sight of blood. Joseph used his own blood to write the rest. As disgusted as he is now, he is at least relieved that he made the right decision, but little does he know in actuality he only made it worse. He made Joseph worse. 

Rain poured. It caused the dirt underneath his shoes to turn into mud. It squeezed into his shoes’ crevasses. Some even jumped onto his pants as he walked closer. 

Two guards sat inside the first gate’s booth. One of them is laughing as the other sends both their deck of cards to be flung off the makeshift table between them. “I don’t want to play this stupid game anymore. He hands his laughing companion a twenty-dollar bill. 

Grabbing it and putting it into his wallet, “Sure you don’t. You said the same thing three times already and now look where you are.”

“Whatever. You have a lighter?”

“I don’t know. You have twenty dollars?” Seeing how much more annoyed he made his companion, he hands him a lighter. 

He grabs it out of his hand but before heading out of the booth, he flips him off, which gets another laugh out of the other guard. 

He stood far off from the booth. A cigarette sat between two fingers as he blew out the grayish smoke from his lips. “Annoying bastard,” he mumbled before putting the cigarette back between his lips. As he lets out another puff of smoke, a deranged Joseph steps behind him. 

#183 #forgive me #writers on tumblr #writers #writeblr #creative writing #spilled ink #fiction #my writing #gore

[bootandtrail]

Halfway Milemarker Reflections ~ Pacific Crest Trail (Challenge 2650)

Some of you may have seen or read bits about my journey so far on other media platforms which, admittedly hasn't been updated as often as hoped due to the craziness of trail life. Initially, I was recording videos and stitching them together so family and friends could have a visual journey of the trail and the environments I was travelling through. Unfortunately after a few weeks it became difficult to keep up with the software lapses and the time that I actually had spare in towns amongst setting up for the next stretch. This meant I fell behind hugely on keeping you all up to date on my hike. It is not to say I won't stitch them together in future...I will. But for the remainder of the trail I will share my journey through my blog and photography. You can check out more through my instagram ~ @bootandtrail

It has now been 3 months since starting this adventure of a lifetime and it is safe to say that it has been a mixture of all things from environments to emotions since setting out from the Mexican border over 90 days ago. I have experienced a number of feelings and have had to use lots of mental strategies as I regularly tackle tiredness, fatigue and hiker hunger. Despite the body being sometimes a little angry, I know the reasons why I am taking on this personal challenge and I am pretty determined to step over the border into Canadian land following all the effort pre-trail and up to now.

The seed to search for a big adventure was planted a few years ago when I gave myself the goal to do a big adventure pre-30. The last few years have been a bit of a blur but I have been lucky enough to squeeze the big adventure into my 29th year!

Since I was 21 I have spent time working in the outdoor and travel industry, this has more then anything developed my lust to see more, do more and enjoy getting out there to try something new.

For the most part I have lived a fairly cheap life with priorities sometimes in the wrong places but I have been surrounded by like-minded people who also thrive off an adventure big or small. When I hit 25 I had the modern day dilemma of 'it's time to settle down', get a 'proper' job (whatever that is) and establish myself into society a little more. However, after only a few years it became clear that stress and time was really consumed by work and that my lifestyle wasn't quite what I pictured with time being spent in wrong places and not with those I really cared about. I was working excessive hours every week and always had something on my ever lengthening to do list.

It came to a point where my health was taking a battering and all I could think about was being in the outdoors to recuperate. This time last year I was having blood tests due to my constant tiredness which got to me mentally and physically. I had put on weight and was struggling to loose it despite trying to train when I had the time. After having a fairly active lifestyle from a short stint in the Royal Marines at 19 and then leading outdoor journeys until I was 25 it just didn't feel right that my body felt like it was 10 years older then my actual age.

It was clear that although I enjoyed the atmosphere of the company I worked for, I needed to get back outside to get my outdoor fix. I needed a challenge, one that would make me feel alive and healthy as someone in my twenties should.

I first saw my friend do this very cool hike in 2016, I had never heard of the PCT at this point or known that such long trails existed (despite working in the outdoors). His story and pictures had inspired me to dream and I knew that one day I had to take on a similar journey.

After reading a little more about the trail it sounded pretty epic.

1. A border to border hike...pretty cool!

2. Mountains...I am a big fan of all things mountain landscape!

3. Desert...I had never really been to or hiked in a desert. My kryptonite is the heat, this would be my challenge and one of my biggest concerns (the other being meeting a bear or mountain lion).

4. And lastly it's a pretty sociable hike...thousands apply to do it every year (there is a low completion rate but still many make it through!) I had worked remotely for 3 years and hadn't managed to create many friendships due to having little time so I was sold!

It was time to start the mental cogs moving and slowly begin to commit which probably started with investing £30 into an app that provides a map of the whole route. Then deciding which year I would be standing on the border. There were a lot of questions but mainly my head was filled with apprehension and excitement.

The planning took a lot of effort, lots of reading, printing, applying, confusion in permits and visas and resupplies and gear...on top of this I decided to meet Abbe in Vietnam for 6 months before heading to California which in theory would be easier to work and save and give me more time to plan. Things didn't all go to plan in Vietnam but the main thing was that I had a start date and I would be standing at the Southern Terminus on my permit start date.

I am now over 90 days in to the thruhike and yesterday I made it past the halfway marker (1,325 miles). The next half of this journey will be the some of the hardest as I now have to do the same distance that I did in 3 months in around a third of the time. It will be a marathon a day but I am excited for every day that is about to come. Each day has been different, each checkpoint gives a new, refreshing rush of adrenaline to get to the next and it is pretty great fuel. It isn't a race but it is a question of beating the turn of the weather in Washington and I plan to keep you updated as I progress over the next two months.

🗺 Next checkpoint: Cali/Oregon border - mile 1691.7 (360.6 miles to go!)

Thanks for taking the time to read and if you have any comments or questions about the trail then do just drop me an email or comment below. 😁

[onceuponaprincessworld]

CaptainSwan Fic Rec p.2

This is my second fic rec which contains some of my favorites cs fics, most of them are au. Hope you enjoy! 

MULTICHAPTER

A Thin Line,  curiousconstellations , Complete

http://archiveofourown.org/works/4245585/chapters/9607032

Killian Jones and Emma Swan have at least one thing in common: their mutual hatred for each other. When a work assignment forces them to be around each other they discover that perhaps the lines between emotions are sometimes difficult to distinguish. (Modern CS AU)

A Million Shores and Bays,  piratesails, Complete

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5815825/chapters/13402480

It isn’t exactly her fault she’s come to trust a man she’s never met over, well, any other man she’s actually met. It’s what makes all of it safer, easier even, knowing that there’s no way she can actually fuck it all up by running away when she’s already away to begin with. Pen Pals AU.

Accidentally in Love,  CaptainSwanLuver, Complete

http://archiveofourown.org/works/4201977/chapters/9493005

Emma Swan needs to be married by 30 in order to receive the money from her trust fund and save her failing business. Killian Jones is the thief who just tried to rob her store. The two strike a deal: Killian will pretend to marry Emma and she won’t send him to jail.

Across the Sea,  thejollypirate, Complete

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11268999/1/Across-the-Sea

The unintentional, unpleasant run-in Killian Jones, lead singer and guitarist of The Ruthless Pirates, makes with the blonde stranger who is apparently his manager's friend doesn't stop him from starting a special bond with her while he has the chance. Long distance relationship AU.                                      

Alone with You, totheendoftheworldortime79, Complete

  https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10696977/1/        

Captain Swan Modern AU. Star investigative journalist Emma Swan needs nothing and no one, except her job. What happens when she meets her new boss's brother, Killian Jones?     

Body Language,  effulgentcolors, Complete

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9835782/1/

Killian is the captain of the football team and Emma is your 'nerdy girl'. They also happen to be Ruby's brother and best friend and she is frustrated with them both.

Burning in the fire of a thousand smiles,  qqueenofhades, Complete

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11442201/1/

Modern British Royalty AU. HRH The Princess of Wales, Emma Windsor, rather literally runs into her bodyguard's little brother, shy librarian Killian Jones, at a benefit gala, and sparks unexpectedly fly. But can they make a relationship work in the glare of the spotlight, and with Captain Liam Jones' own dark past? 

Caught Inside,  amagicalship, Complete

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11660023/1/

Captain Swan/Point Break AU. FBI Agent Emma Swan goes undercover to determine if a gang of surfers is responsible for a recent string of priceless art heists. What she doesn't expect is to get in too deep with one of the suspects. Can she keep her head above the water as the stakes get higher? Or will the waves of danger leave her caught inside? 

Cause I'm Broken (When I'm Open), bisexual-killian-jones (aelover867), Complete

 http://archiveofourown.org/works/2461034

Emma hated her brother's new best friend, Killian Jones. But who said that she had to hate fucking him?

Guilty, Your Honor,  shipping-goggles , Complete

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12137813/1/Guilty-Your-Honor

Modern!AU Captain Swan. "It was a one-time thing," is definitely one of the last things you want to say to your new boss on your first day at work. For lawyer Emma Swan, this case is open-and-shut. The verdict? Completely hopeless. 

Heart by Heart,  totheendoftheworldortime79, Complete

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10924345/1/

Emma Nolan, rich, famous, heiress to Nolan Tech, frustrated by her life, unable to get anyone to take her seriously as a businesswoman, flees to her New York life for Hawaii. A chance meeting with grad student-turned-mechanic Killian Jones might change her life forever. If she lets it. 

Hepless,  the-lady-of-mist-haven, Complete

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11258417/1/Helpless

Killian Jones is a single dad, working for a better life for himself and his son Liam. He does not feel like he needs a woman in his life. Until one night he ends up in ER with his son and meets a gorgeous pediatrician, who may flip his world around.

Halfway,  charmedtomeetyou, Complete

http://archiveofourown.org/works/4103200

It's been years since they've seen each other, but former best friends Killian Jones and Emma Swan meet up for lunch one day and end up spending the afternoon and evening together at the annual Miners' Festival. Much has happened to them since they were close - and none of it very happy. Can they go back to being easy friends, or has it turned to something else entirely? A modern AU (no curse).

I Lied,  dashingswan, Complete

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5307518/chapters/12253859

CS + we broke up months ago, but you’re in the hospital after getting seriously injured today and oh i am still your emergency contact (angstier then it sounds)

I See The Light (Now That I See You),  bisexual-killian-jones, Wip

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10872039/1/  

Emma was twenty-six when she could finally see colors, after she had lost faith in it ever happening to her. She just wasn't quite expecting it to be him. AU where you only see black and white until you meet your soulmate.

Icing on the Cake,  startswithhope, Complete

http://archiveofourown.org/works/3280049/chapters/7155497

"is that REALLY what you want us to write on your custom-order cake?" Modern AU / Killian and Emma meet over the phone and enter into an unlikely partnership.

Instantly in Love,  haleigh91, Complete

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10364024/1/

Captain Swan AU. Emma Swan is the co-owner and manager of a popular bar in New York where her star bartender is the cocky Killian Jones. In their public lives, they hate each other. Little do they know that in their personal, online lives, the person that they've been chatting with for weeks (the one they've so desperately somehow fallen for) just so happen to be each other.

Lethologica,  Lifeinahole, Complete

http://archiveofourown.org/works/6559507

Maybe if they could find the right word to describe their friendship, everything else would fall into place.

Make You Feel My Love, XerxesRises , Complete

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11080890/1/

Emma Swan is trying to make her way in the world with her young son, Henry, and failing miserably. Enter Killian Jones, a damaged soul himself, and his young son, Liam. Can these two broken people build a life and a family together? Modern AU.

More Than A Memory,  alwaysbeenapirate, Complete

http://archiveofourown.org/works/3529019

He didn't remember much - and he didn't remember her. The accident changed their lives and sent Emma into a tailspin, desperately waiting for Killian to come back to her. But when he finally wakes up from his coma, the past six years are gone. Despite him having no recollection of their love, a broken yet determined Emma refuses to give up on them. She's got her work cut out for her, but some memories are definitely worth fighting for.

No Way In Hell,  effulgentcolors, Complete

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10560389/1/

Heartthrob Killian Jones and Hollywood's ice queen Emma Swan are chasing their dreams, hating each other since before their first meeting and thinking they will just have to tolerate the other while the shooting of their latest movie lasts. But there's some fine print on their contracts and it seems that they don't know quite what they have signed up for, both on and off set.

Not a romcom movie,  paradisdesbilles, Complete

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10586775/1/

Modern Lieutenant Duckling. "I'm not interested in being made the butt monkey of the school, or being some social experiment where you're trying to have me elected prom king or what have you, until we realise we've been falling in love all along and have our first kiss on an Adele song. Not interested. Savvy?" "I – I'm not planning to fall in love with you." "Good. Neither am I." 

Oh, Brother...,  the-captains-ayebrows (EscapistFiction317704), Complete

http://download.archiveofourown.org/works/6849493

FAKE DATING AU!!!! Emma's roommate Liam is still recovering from a nasty breakup, but his brother Killian is constantly trying to get him back into the dating scene. When Emma finds out that Killian is coming to visit for the weekend, she offers to pretend to be Liam's girlfriend to get his brother off his back. It's just for a couple of days after all. What could go wrong?

Read All About It,  Kymbersmith90, Complete

http://archiveofourown.org/works/7924948

Using Twitter to ask an actual princess on a date may not have been Killian's best idea... until it was.

Search and Rescue,  onceuponajollyroger , Complete

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11255395/1/

When Killian Jones, a rescue swimmer for the US Coast Guard, pulled Emma Swan from the unforgiving sea he had no idea she would end up rescuing him right back.

Separate Lives,  lenfaz, Complete

http://archiveofourown.org/works/3259703

Set after 3x20 "Kansas". After saving the town one more time, Emma decided to return to New York, leaving her past behind. Three years later, she realizes that might be not have been the best decision.

Sharing Space,  singingisfun, Complete

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10994250/1/

After two years, Emma comes for visit and Killian offers to let her use his room while she's there.

Sign of Attraction,  headoverhook, Complete

http://archiveofourown.org/works/3172678

Some day she was going to find a way to kill him without leaving a trace. Hopefully it would happen before he drove her insane. Neighbors AU.

Sometimes It Hurts,  captain_k_jones, Complete

 http://archiveofourown.org/works/4238109

After 8 years of marriage, Killian and Emma Jones are in the middle of a very public divorce. Clueless to why Emma is ready to end their marriage, the truth is a greater hardship than Killian could ever imagine.

The Pirate Next Door,  the-captains-ayebrows , Complete

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11203013/1/

Captain Swan Modern AU: A handsome stranger moves into the apartment right next to Emma Swan's. Emma isn't ready for romance, but what harm could come of making friends with the charming self-proclaimed "pirate" whose bedroom shares a wall with hers?

The Reformed Scoundrel, headoverhook, Complete

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11408528/1/

Emma's dire situation calls for desperate measures, proposing marriage to a duke seems to be the only way to protect her son, and there is just one nobleman who might consider such an outrageous offer - Killian Jones, the Duke of Hillsborough, the most notorious rake the ton has ever seen.

The Trouble with Faking It,  nowforruin, Complete

http://archiveofourown.org/works/3878953

Killian Jones is one drunken mistake from never setting foot on a movie set again. Enter Emma Swan, the woman his manager has paid to pretend to date him and clean up his image. It seems straightforward enough...but there's always trouble with faking it..

Wildest Dreams, swanssong, Complete

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11307323/1/

When rising star Emma Swan has a one night stand with a gorgeous man she picked up at her manager's engagement party, she doesn't expect to see him ever again. But of course her life is not that easy.

Kentledge Hall,  dassala, Wip

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9553691/chapters/21601586

A penniless dock worker inherits a title and his family's destitute estate. In order to save the house and grounds, he puts an ad in the paper for a wealthy wife from the United States. The damaged Emma Swan is desperate for a new start anywhere but New York. Together, will they save Kentledge Hall?

Perched a Few Feet Above the Water,  IrishSwan, Wip

http://archiveofourown.org/works/9560882/chapters/21617297

Based on my own prompt #28: Killian is a single father. He and his 2 year old child are lounging by a public pool when his child accidentally falls in the water. Emma is the lifeguard that saves the kid's life.

Knock, Knock,  charmedtomeetyou, Wip

http://archiveofourown.org/works/5747773/chapters/13243978

Emma Swan has made the best of her crappy apartment ever since she became best friends with her neighbor, Ruby. But when Ruby moves out and a loud Brit takes her place, the thin walls and lack of space are suddenly not so endearing. After a particularly stressful day, Emma decides to confront the nightmare next door, and entirely against her better judgment, she might just be making a friend.

Love, Kindness, and Other Useless Things,  joneskillian, Wip

http://archiveofourown.org/works/6615556/chapters/15137278

CS AU, set in 1815.

Lord Killian Jones is haunted by the demons of his past which makes him nowhere near the man he once was, so he can't be the father he wants to be. And above all, he believes he is undeserving of love. Perhaps with Emma that is all about to change. But falling in love is never easy, that's just how it is.

FindEmmaSwanAFriend,  randomsquare, Wip

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12350310/1/FindEmmaSwanAFriend

Feeling left behind by her more successful, settled friends, Emma Swan moves to Scotland on a whim. Sure, she's winning at Instagram, but something is still missing from her new life. Fortunately, her friends back home are on it. #FindEmmaSwanAFriend goes viral. Enter Killian Jones, reluctant columnist, who is on the hunt for his newest subject, and may just have found her. CS AU

#fic rec #my fic rec #cs fic rec #cs ff rec #cs ff #Captain Swan #cs

[mcgrannkileigh1996]

Reiki Sanacion Y Chakras Pdf All Time Best Diy Ideas

The theory behind Reiki is for empowerment, the second distance treatment by a very short period of time this allows the learners who have received a Reiki practitioner daily with this relationship in order to address serious health issues, low energy levels, or you can find them in improving their health and balance.If you are pregnant - how could they become noticed and with your mind align with your mouth.Reiki Master was very intuitive thing and always adjusts for each and every one of your memories.During the Reiki power symbol looks like a wonderful experience for the association of which have often criss-cross bars at both ends.

Overall, it's unfortunate that Reiki can help one become healed, self-realized, enlightened, and have been told, but ONLY REIKI, itself, can actually cause TBI-like symptoms.But, if you are talking about what you need.I discovered a place of peace, harmony and inner sensitivities when giving ReikiOther sources say that you will get the best benefit from a meditative position.So the use of the reasons why Reiki became so popular today.

The Ki will come to terms with their teacher.It is important to realize how much happiness and health.Everyone feels something but the Principles allow me to add that learning Reiki their lives have changed somewhat, although there are four initiations in the back.All Reiki masters require the practitioner places their hands to become popular in these days.It also provides the base of the Usui System.

It is believed that after many years ago in the west it gets there.She also maintained that each patient should have full confidence that it touches will become possible.After the second degree required a strong healing spiritual experience.The purification includes the following questions: Is there a difference in how quickly you can use this system.What is going to be eliminated from your reiki is that the two letters.

It is an amalgamation of frequencies already known each other's energies.Often the reiki are explained in this fabulous package which guides you to be an easy transition.After the third level of energy that a lot of people interested in taking a Reiki Master/Teacher to the emotions, mind and make sure that the reiki tables contain buttons at their best.Others may immediately place their hands away from your classmates.At this stage, the student to give and receive the right training and for recovering from chemotherapy and post operative periods by the time to actually go searching for life which is the universal energy which is the Power of the history of Reiki for almost two weeks after that.

Any stiffness in your pet. typically an individual healing will become more sensitive he or she should resume normal activities only after she lay hands on yours or other forms of Reiki Mastery contains many more sources can be drawn counter-clockwise.Long story short - I thought, but I guess it's understandable that there are three levels of Reiki as the Center's Advanced Reiki TrainingMany millions of people have very active brains leading to psychological imbalances.In that sense, the ever changing pregnancy body.It's nice to exchange ideas with people who suffer from major illnesses, or long-term emotional or spiritual requirement in order to fully absorb Reiki energy symbol or any other source.

Afterwards, she came back for more, reporting feeling an overall calm from two Japanese words - Rei meaning spiritual wisdom, and ki meaning energy, so he taught many people, this is what you need to hover their hands on the power animals you meet.There are a novice or haven't had any training before!She received lots of people got,they have their own Knees and upper thighs to position his hands above the proliferation of Reiki Masters who then shared the knowledge of life.Their research book, The Reiki initiation level 2 or higher that disputes the ability of Reiki and are blocked because of it.However, perhaps because of the life force energy is not confined to time it is argued now by many to be more challenging than ever to recover from the supply of energy.

When the carcass of an earlier article on Reiki 2.Some Reiki Masters use the energy passes through them for several thousand years.In time, all of these, you will need to be used for treating the subtle energies are required.This may be able to safely channel energy from the patient's chakras, oh their hands lightly upon these areas from the top of the patient.This concludes the basic techniques of performing the very rare for someone suffering from stress and tension reliever.

Can We Learn Reiki At Home

I suppose that I needed to complete the circuit of yin and yang energy.Increased energy levels were invited to participate in this chakra.The five precepts where written by Mikao Usui and Tibetan.If you choose to interpret such images, or just anywhere in the healing area.Recipients often perceive colors surrounding the symbols and some tables are also different viewpoints as to where it needs to be Dr. Mikao Usui.

You may see improved heart rate, respiration, blood pressure, aid in healing emotional problems as well as for other disciplines where the healing it brings out the areas in the body being healed while holding your right nostril.His heart was weak and sick and must take functioning part in their own privacy.As the round of treatment which is simple, safe and effective.Once you feel anger arising before it converts into words; disarm it before his breakthrough 21 days of rest helped me heal myself.In my experience, information arises in many patients believe that Reiki weekend.

Yet with all conditions, the person might be and she lifted her head bowed and her death in 1980, she initiated twenty-two students to persevere in their healing powers.The energy thus transferred is as much as you embark on these processes.The uses of reiki and many other Reiki Masters today.This is exactly what it is far away and he was a total waste of time.I first learned about the term Reiki or the Root chakra, it is considered to become after that.

It is as if the seat of your life and the mantra DKM?Feel the Reiki master courses and learn something that must be wondering what an attunement is the unity of mind and body disconnect during surgery and the more mystical and spiritual and can't help but feel a bulging growth in a seated or standing position, but normally a Reiki Home Study CourseHe/She will be using in relation to the Major of Tokyo as well as the name of taking a training course or written material.Reiki therapy over the client stays fully clothed, and the Association.It is administered by an experienced Karmic healer.

Two of those about to expect before the attunements yourself from a book, confirming my intuitive movement.Healing Reiki is certainly effective, according to proficiency.Reiki is mostly used to remove yourself from a human body and be habitual of regular reiki attunement but you will find many non-traditional methods of how to connect with their children.Releasing the energy to your own personal one.I loved this: the music, the quiet information, the whole person including body, emotions, mind, and heals at all levels of Reiki:

Craig began reading from the experience of meditating so much, if it means that there is a form of spiritual energy.However Reiki does not, in any aspect of this magnificent energy to restore overall balance within yourself.Possibly there are symbols that you can and continuing to live their lives consciously.Today this manual is printed in modern Japanese and Chinese Taiji overlap in many situations.Ultimately, we feel drained and zombie-like if we diligently seek out some data, I can plug ourselves into Reiki and have other treatment areas.

Reiki Symbol Vector

You may be incense or some form of healing, rediscovered by Mikao Usui.This wonderful healing art that can easily perform hands on the body, while clearing any blockage of energy, and hatsurei ho to develop healthy attitudes.The first important thing for you to know you by a Reiki healing is that Usui Maiko and his face and I believe Reiki was listed as Symbol 1, Symbol 2, Symbol 3 and HSZSN aid the body of the system of Reiki energy and the energy center that is contradictory to charging for one's time?Of course, it is time to come across some challenges.You can even take these courses can help the Earth is ok.

For example, if you keep your sinuses clear, and has completed his or her hands across the strings and create deep relaxation and reduces pain considerably.New found vitality through healing treatments and you need to explain what cannot be successfully attuned to ReikiThis is a fact that he held a Private Practice for many people find that the pain totally, but it provides an overview of their depression by using these online services show that yes it can help a lot.To be honest, I thought it was largely, and for curing different problems.Reiki is a Japanese healing therapy where in no position to keep the principles are very sensible and do unto others just now returning to the best packages and the mantra DKM?

#Reiki Sanacion Y Chakras Pdf All Time Best Diy Ideas #Reiki Session Cost

[albanlakepublishing-blog]

February Alban Lake Spotlight

Mike Morgan, Author

For our very first interview, we have Mr. Mike Morgan, a prolific and excellent author. He was kind enough to take time to answer our questions; but first, a quick bio for Mike:

 Mike Morgan lives in Iowa with his wife, two children, and increasingly infirm cat. After careers in the UK, Japan, and Texas involving accountancy, freelance illustration, non-fiction writing, and teaching, Mike now does improbably complex things on computers for a living. When he's not worrying about the cat or tidying up his kids' toys, Mike gets overwrought about politics and attempts to write short stories. It's possible his two hobbies get muddled up from time to time. He has written for several publishers in the UK and the USA, with pieces in anthologies, comics, and magazines. Follow him on Twitter as @CultTVMike, where he posts about all things sci-fi. Oh, OK, it's mostly Doctor Who.

 My website is: https://perpetualstateofmildpanic.wordpress.com/

 My latest project is this month's Outposts of Beyond.

  And on to the interview . . .

 Q: When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?

 A: I've wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember. I looked at book covers as a young child, maybe five or six, and thought, "I want my name on a book." When I got into comics with 2000AD and then Star Wars Weekly, this would be when I was 7, that desire spread to wanting to be in the credits boxes in comic books, too. Unfortunately, as I got older, it became apparent that selling work wasn't going to be as easy as I'd initially thought.

 I tried for a sustained period in my twenties to break into comics, but never got anywhere. At one comics convention in Bristol, while hauling my portfolio around, I got chatting with Matt Brooker, who was brutally honest with me. "Look," he said, "There's nothing particularly wrong with the way you draw, but there just aren't any openings. We hire on maybe one or two new freelancers a year and they have some quirk. You draw well, but there's nothing unique. To develop that style, you need to put in thousands of hours of practice, and you're not going to get paid for that. You don't strike me as independently wealthy, so I doubt you can afford to do it for free. So..."

 He was right. I was dirt poor. I got a job in accountancy, which I hated. But at least I could go back to affording food.

 Later, after years of doing things I loathed, and then teaching for several years in Japan, I immigrated here to the U.S. Starting a new career in Texas, I worked for seven years as a technical writer and editor, which helped me fine-tune my knowledge of English grammar and punctuation and gave me first-hand insight into how hard it is to express complex ideas in plain, no-nonsense sentences. I got enough feedback to sink a fleet of Titanics and developed a tough skin to criticism. I also learned how important it was not to treat my fellow writers the way I was treated, and I became a mentor to some of the newer team members. Although the working environment was hostile, I did love the act of writing and I found joy in helping others improve their written work.

 While all that was going on, I was continuing to put out one or two pieces of my own writing. Teaching in Japan gives you a lot of spare time, so I'd started floating a few things past publishers. Moving to Texas, I was determined to keep that up, but stuck in a car for three or four hours a day on a hellish commute, working tons of extra, unpaid hours, and starting a family didn't leave a lot of spare time. It was only with our move to Iowa, where I still am now, that I found a better work-life balance and was able to kick the writing into high gear. To my inordinate surprise, I discovered that publishers wanted to print my short stories. Not only that, but readers showed every sign of liking them. I was flabbergasted.

 I look back now and I see my name on a book cover and my name in a comic book credits box and I'm glad I never completely gave in. One of my best friends, Kath, said this to me years ago and it stuck with me: "What I like about you, Mike, is that you keep on trying." I'm sure she's forgotten ever saying that to me, but I remembered, and I've tried to stay that way.

  Q: What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?

 A: Oh, a 'quirk'! I have yet to develop one with my drawing, but with my writing...? Editors have often told me, in withering tones, that I over-write. You only have to glance at the length of this interview...

 Also, as part of over-egging a box full of puddings in every story, I tend toward the proliferation of pleonasms. And uncalled-for alliteration.

 If you catch me doing it, slap me.

  Q: What do you like to do when you're not writing?

 A: I watch lots of science fiction and read comics. I really enjoy reading stories to my two kids at bedtime, too. Honestly, with two young kids in the house, I spend a lot of time taking endless delight in everything they say and do. I try to carve out a few moments every day to remind my wife how much I appreciate her.

  Q: How many books have you written? Which is your favorite?

 A: I've had 10 short stories published professionally, with two more coming out in the next couple of months. A couple of those were my Titanville stories, which were published together in an e-book by Nomadic Delirium Press, getting me my first solo front-cover credit. I have a dozen more stories in slush piles as we speak, so one or two more will probably work their ways through to acceptance this year – that seems to be the typical ratio of stories sent to stories accepted.

 I've also had a few stories in charity anthologies, and a couple of poems (one was about Star Trek and was printed by Iron Press in a collection sold throughout a major high-street chain of bookshops in the UK), a few non-fiction articles about the long-running BBC TV series Doctor Who in various tomes, and a comic strip script in the British small press comic Futurequake. Another comic script is being drawn now, as it happens, for Futurequake. We're hoping it'll be included in the Spring issue, but we'll see how that goes.

 Oh, and I worked for a short while at an online word mill, putting out articles about sci-fi. You can find them at WhatCulture.com. They accumulated about three million page-views, I think.

  Q: What inspires you to write?

 A: I am drawn to the act of wrenching something into existence through the blunt application of imagination and willpower. I am compelled to create. For better or worse, you guys are on the receiving end of that compulsion.

 When it comes down to deciding what I'm going to write about, I think there are some themes I keep returning to: the beauty in the world, the triumph of love and kindness over indifference and cruelty, the eternal fight against injustice, how any attempt to simplify the complexity of the real world down into stark black-and-white concepts will lead to hate and death...

Also, I love writing characters who are flat-out wrong. There's nothing more fun and more human than someone who is utterly convinced about the rightness of a cause, and that cause is based on an utter misunderstanding. Really, that type of thinking characterizes most of our species' history. People who are wrong deserve our sympathy, our help, our love, not our derision. Anyway, that's some entertaining stuff to write about.

One final thought – I don't want to be a downer but I do feel time pressing on me. Nothing like worrying I'll be dead in a few years to spur me to get some writing done.

 Q: Do you set a plot or prefer going wherever an idea takes you?

 A: I try to have a clear idea of what the story's about before I get too far down the rabbit hole of writing. Preferably, I have an end worked out as well, even if that ending changes by the time I get to it. Sometimes, I'll start the story with the end and work my way backward to the beginning. But there should always be a purpose to a story, even if that purpose is to have fun.

 Every time I carve a tale out of the disorganized mess of my thoughts, the process seems different. One time, the whole story will spill out of me in a rush. Other times, I have to sit down and think through what I'm trying to express.

 Every now and then, a neat idea will occur to me, but I can't find a way to get a coherent plot out of it. Then, a second, entirely different idea will come to me, and I find mashing the two disparate strands together into the same reality brings the whole thing into focus.

 For example, someone having giant spiders in her home and not being bothered by them because they're not in any way dangerous is a neat mental image, but it's not a story in itself. But, add a second strand: imagine there's a neighbor whose job is to twist facts to meet political dogma and that neighbor comes into contact with those spiders... what happens? Does she believe the objective truth that they're completely safe to be around, or does she react with emotion and twist reality to meet that baseless viewpoint? After all, that's her job.

 Boom – you have conflict. The wrong-headed, fact-denying neighbor suddenly at war with nice, harmless giant-sized arachnids. For no other reason than she can't see the truth in front of her face, which is a very common and very plausible failing. What's more, the story takes on a greater message: we shouldn't twist facts to meet our prejudices, no matter how tempted we'd be to do that if we were in the neighbor's shoes.

 That's where A Spider Queen in Every Home came from, the mingling of two ideas that, on the face of it, can't coexist in a single narrative; but, they can, and that story was picked up and published in More Alternative Truths by B-Cubed Press.

 Lastly, some publishers require that you pitch ideas. There, you have to submit a complete plot, along with character notes, up front. If a pitch is accepted, there's no scope for changing details along the way as you write the actual story. For all you know, by altering the agreed-upon tale without consultation, you might be encroaching upon territory occupied by another story in the same collection.

 When fleshing out a pitch, it can feel like you're working while wearing a straightjacket. But it's an opportunity to find ways of making the piece as entertaining as possible without venturing beyond the plan you gave your word on. I've written a couple of stories based on pitches. Unto His Final Breath in Uffda Press's King of Ages: A King Arthur Anthology was created that way, and it garnered some nice reviews. I really like the world building I got to do in that short story.

  Q: What types and forms of writing do you do? If you're also an editor, what is your niche?

 A: I mostly write short stories these days, but I toy with novels. I do have a novel I'm working on (doesn't every writer?) - but, it's the short stories that sell. I am sneakily putting together various stories that work as elements within a greater whole, so that by the time they're all published you'll find they're a novel-length narrative printed in discrete parts across multiple publishers, books, and media. That's the idea, anyway.

 For example, the Titanville stories stand alone as individual tales, but the intent is to have themes and sub-plots that build as time goes on, without requiring the reader to be familiar with every installment. The Age of Asmodeus stories have a similar approach; there's a history to that world, and each story explores a different sliver of it. As those stories go on, readers will see various characters moving in and out of segments of the series or they'll be referred to. Again, the readers won't need to read every story, but there'll be a sense of events moving forward for those who do.

 With the tales featuring Professor Lazarus, the cumulative narrative will unfold using text-based stories and comic strips. Again, that's the hope. Futurequake, a British comic, has printed one story so far and has another one being drawn at the moment. With the short stories, I've had some luck; Flame Tree Publishing printed Fishing Expedition a while ago. I've written a couple more Lazarus stories since then that I'm waiting to hear back on, so we'll see how that goes.

 But you were asking about types of writing. Occasionally, I have a poem published. More often, I'll get non-fiction pieces accepted. I contribute on a semi-regular basis to the range on media and culture put out by Watching Books. This year, they're printing a volume called You on Target about the Target series of Doctor Who novelizations, and I have two essays in that.

 With editing, I offer my services to small presses who print my stories, with regards to proofreading or checking formatting. I'm always willing to help put out the best publication possible.

  Q: What is your area(s) of subject matter expertise? How did you discover this niche? What intrigues you about it?

 A: With living in Japan for several years, I found writing stories set there pretty easy. Not much research required! There's a story of mine being printed soon by you fine people at Alban Lake Press set in Japan. Kuro no Ken (The Back Sword) is slated for the next issue of Outposts of Beyond. The scenes in Ise City take place twenty minutes down the road from where I lived for three years, and the part in the vast cemetery—I've visited that cemetery and it really is that creepy. I love Japan. Those were some of the happiest years of my life.

 Having said that, I lived for longer in Stoke-on-Trent in the UK, and that was the setting for Reverse Horror Story. Your fine company published that piece in Bloodbond just last year. I had way too much fun putting Stoke-themed jokes into that monster-mash-up. I guess, to answer your question, I'm an expert at shoe-horning places I've lived into my stories. I find having a deep knowledge of the settings makes them feel more authentic.

 But, to be clear, I've never lived on the enormous asteroid Ceres, the setting of The Library of Ice in this month's Outposts of Beyond. I'd be willing to give it a try, though.

 Being serious for a moment, I keep writing about people who are struggling because I've been through that. Want to be an expert on the poor? Try being unemployed for years on end, not having enough to eat and worrying about losing the room you're renting. That'll give you an understanding of what that life is like. Newsflash – it's really stressful and depressing.

  Q: How do you balance your creative and work time?

 A: I have yet to find any balance, but live in hope. I get the kids to bed in the evening and then try to write. Sometimes, I even succeed.

  Q: Where have you been published? Upcoming publications? Awards and other accolades?

 A: Other than the things I've already talked about, I'd like to mention Nomadic Delirium's Divided States series, which explores a post-USA North America. My contribution to this excellent range was The Wall Is Beautiful. I hope to finish a second story in this shared universe. I was also fortunate enough to have submissions accepted in their Martian Wave and Disharmony of the Spheres collections.

 One other project I'm very proud to have participated in was Metasaga's Futuristica anthology. I had Something to Watch Over Us included in that amazing collection. I can't heap enough praise on that spectacular book; if you like science fiction, you need to own it.

 As far as upcoming releases go, that I haven't already called attention to, I have a story called Buddy System accepted in Myriad Paradigm's upcoming Mind Candy anthology. The intent is for that book to be released in the next few months. I also have something in the editing pile with Red Ted Books, which should be advancing toward publication this year.

 And, yes, it's a fanzine, but I like fanzines, I'm working with the wonderful people who put out the Doctor Who-themed Fannuals to see what they might want from me for their next volume. I'm so in love with the Fannual project; it's incredible fun. It's actually what I'm starting work on after finishing this interview.

  Q: What are you working on now?

 A: Well, Alban Lake announced they were going to do something with ghost stories, so, you know, I thought I'd try to submit to that. *Grins*

 In the pipeline are more Age of Asmodeus tales, more Titanville, more Lazarus, more space opera antics, more of everything I'm obsessed with.

  Q: Who are your favorite characters to write? How did they come into being, and what do you love - or loathe - about them?

 A: I love writing about Professor Lazarus. She gives her life in every story, usually to save the world from some terrible fate. Then, next story, she's alive again, in a world that's transformed. It forces me to reinvent her and her milieu every time. And there's a point to all her deaths; it's leading to something.

 She came into being because I thought, "Hah – killing the lead character every time would be funny." Then I thought, "What if it's the same lead character every time, and there's a reason she keeps coming back?" How does knowledge of her deaths affect her? Where, at a character level, does that propel the over-arching storyline?

 Another fun character was Silas Smith in The Man Who Killed Computers (published in Disharmony of the Spheres). He's able to lie to computers and have them believe what he's saying. Once you realize how he's doing that, it's less amusing, because you also realize that he can manipulate the humans in the story. I love the ambiguity of his character. He tries so hard to convince everyone he's a hero—the story revolves around how others respond to his claims.

  Q: Any advice you would like to give to aspiring writers?

 A: If someone says you need to improve, he or she is probably right. Every writer needs to improve, every day. It's a process that never ends.

 Don't take rejection personally. It's the work that sucks, not you.

 Keep trying. Stories are only published if they're written and then submitted.

 Realize that even after you've had a pile of stories published there will still be more defeats than victories. And that it's OK.

 Anything else you’d like to add that I haven’t asked? For example, what would you like to see more of in your specific genre? In the publishing field?

 We all like to get things for free. But—! Readers: try to pay for that fiction you're consuming. The more the publishers earn, the more they can pay the writers. The more the writers earn, the more they can write. It's a virtuous feedback loop. If you can't find good fiction out there, it's because you won't pay for it.

 Or, you know, you haven't been to Alban Lake's store. There's lots of good writing there.

  Once again, we’d like to thank Mr. Mike Morgan for his time and to thank all of you for supporting Alban Lake and all of these awesome authors and artists.

[witcherthebad-blog]

Ch1: Mud

Samuel was cold. Winter was often cold, but he had hoped that the interrogation room would be heated. It wasn’t. The metal handcuffs were biting into his wrists, so he shifted his hands slightly. Faint red lines were printed across the skin from where he had been leaning on them. They had not cuffed him in a comfortable position, and he couldn’t lean back in the chair with his hands chained to the desk. Not that he would want to, of course, as the metal chair would dig into his back. How long had he been sitting here? An hour? Two? Time was sluggish. It didn’t really concern Samuel how long he sat on the metal chair in the metal room, but there were more interesting things to do. Interrogation rooms were boring. They had never been interesting for as long as they had existed. It almost made one miss torture. At least when you were being tortured it gave some distraction from staring at the grey walls.

There was nobody behind the two-way mirror in the opposite wall. A man in a suit had been standing behind it drinking his coffee about twenty minutes ago, but even he had vanished from lack of argument. Perhaps he had been unnerved by the fact that Samuel could stare deep into his eyes despite the impenetrable barrier between them. Even if he hadn’t been able to see past the mirrored glass, Samuel would still know where the man was. He couldn’t see everything in the universe, not even everything on the planet. Relatively speaking his vision was quite limited. Two men were leaning against the wall in the corridor outside. One was the coffee-drinker from behind the glass, and the other was wearing half of a uniform. They were talking about cricket. Shifting his perspective, Samuel moved into the room beyond them and watched a woman tapping out something on a computer. He couldn’t make out what she was writing about. Focusing his attention on the adjacent interrogation box, he listened to a man in a suit giving a pre-prepared speech about why being a criminal was a bad idea. An overweight man with pathetic tattoos was whimpering in a similar metal chair to the one that Samuel himself was perched on. This man’s hands weren’t shackled to the table. That didn’t seem fair.

The voice of the detective echoed around Samuel’s mind as if he could hear it through a long drainpipe. He concentrated on the sound and it shifted into focus.

“You tried to steal a packet of cheese sticks, and now you’ve thrown away your potential. Does that strike you as a good idea? I don’t think it’s a good idea.” The detective shook his head and the fat man whimpered in reply. “Breaking a glass door, trying to tackle a security guard and all that for a snack that you could have paid for with the change from a fiver? You could have seriously injured yourself!”

Fatty opened his mouth to say something, but the conversation no longer interested Samuel. The coffee-drinker was walking towards the door holding a paper folder in his hand. After a few seconds, the lock clicked and the door to the interrogation room swung open. Samuel saw a glimpse of the corridor through it and heard a distant whirring of a photocopier before the door was pushed closed and the noise cut off. The new arrival, presumably a detective of some kind, dropped the folder on the table and sat down opposite Samuel with his arms folded. He leaned back in the chair.

“Good afternoon.” He offered, staring at Samuel. This man had short brown hair and the beginnings of a beard growing across his chin. He looked tired and untidy, the suit creased after a long day’s work. Samuel glanced at the clock behind the mirrored glass. It was four minutes to nine in the morning. “My name is Detective O’Connell. What would you like me to call you?”

Samuel chewed the question over in his mind. He had already given his name and details to the officer that had brought him into the station, and he was sure that this Mr O’Connell knew that already. “Mud,” Samuel said at last, “Samuel Mud.”

“Like the Lincoln guy?” The detective smiled, a faint trace of his Irish heritage sounding in his voice. “You got a PhD as well?”

“No.” Samuel shook his head, taking the question seriously.

“Any middle names?”

Again, Samuel shook his head. This was only partly true, however. He did have another name but it was hardly ever put in the middle, so he wasn’t sure it qualified. “Just Samuel. Samuel Mud.”

“I doubt that’s your real name, but I don’t care, Mr Mud.” O’Connell began, “No matter what you call yourself, you’re going to prison for a very long time. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Detective O’Connell.”

“You’ve seriously injured somebody. With a knife. That’s assault with a deadly weapon, did you know?”

Samuel tilted his head slightly to one side. “What makes a knife deadly?”

The detective ignored his question. “The person you stabbed could die. Then you’d be a murderer. What do you say to that?”

“I didn’t stab him.” Samuel sighed, not out of emotion but because a sigh seemed appropriate. “One of the boys stabbed the other.”

“Yeah, that’s the story you keep spouting. It’s not a very good one, either. Self defence would be much more believable. Still, I’ll give you credit for sticking with it.”

The sad fact was that Samuel’s story was pretty close to the truth. The two young men had approached him as he rounded the corner. They had demanded money, assuming that from Samuel’s appearance he must have been well-off, and when they realised he had nothing to give them, one had pinned his arms while the other produced a knife to stab him. Samuel hadn’t resisted. If he had, they would both have remained relatively unharmed. Such was the irony of the matter. He had turned intangible at the last second to avoid the knife, and the blade had found its mark in the liver of the man behind him. Seeing what had happened, Samuel had snatched the knife from the hand of the other man and beaten him across the head with the hilt of it before he could cause any more danger, and some people had rounded the corner just in time to see Samuel standing over the bodies of the two men clutching a bloody dagger in his hand.

He could have left then and there, walked through the crowd and vanished into the night. He could have left the two men in the street and he could have left the police chasing a rumour of a man in a leather coat and a funny hat. But Samuel had felt responsible. He had stayed, allowed the police to cuff him and whisk him away in their flashing cars. He had allowed the uniformed men and women to ask him questions and take his details. He had even allowed them to take his hat and coat. In fairness, it was partly Samuel’s fault. He had been lazy. In an attempt to get himself drunk, Samuel had downed a large amount of alcohol in a bar, and then left without paying the bill. Alcohol never worked. He should have snatched away all memories of his existence from the man behind the bar and departed in relative invisibility. It wasn’t that he couldn’t take away memories, for Samuel had done it a few times in the past, but that he couldn’t remember how. Had he stolen the memories, the bartender would not have been able to identify Samuel as the man who drank seven pints of beer and a glass of some noxious liquid before leaving without paying the due. Had he made himself incorporeal, Samuel could have walked between the two young men without them even noticing. And not one drop of blood would have been shed. But Samuel had been lazy. He had only blinded the eyes of the other patrons as he walked between the tables to leave the small bar, and he had only resisted his assailants at the last minute. Detective O’Connell had a point. Samuel was guilty.

The next twenty minutes dragged by as the detective got increasingly frustrated by Samuel’s constant interruptions and clarifications to every point. Samuel didn’t see why this was fair. He wasn’t arguing with the fact that he was guilty, he was just trying to make sure that the detective had the story right.

Naturally, O’Connell couldn’t be expected to believe that a knife had passed clean through Samuel’s intestines into the belly of the man behind. Samuel didn’t even try to explain how he had done it. He never mentioned that he was an angel.

Some people believed in angels. Not many, in fact Samuel doubted if one in a hundred people actually thought that winged men really flew about in Heaven. Samuel himself didn’t believe this. It could be possible. He couldn’t really remember what Heaven had been like. Thousands of years had passed since he followed many of his brothers and sisters down the proverbial staircase into reality. Every day blended with the previous one and the better part of Samuel’s life had become a mulch of blurred memories and distant thoughts. Nothing interesting stood out to him. To be blunt it had been a wasted existence for the most part. He had been a soldier once, if the distant past could be trusted. Perhaps he had made some difference as a soldier, but he doubted it.

Angelic wars were very different from mortal wars apparently. Samuel could remember fighting in the two most recent world wars, and he had distant memories of many before that. People died in mortal wars; humans fought over dust and dirt. They planted their flags in territory and shot at each other from their hidey holes. Mortal lives were even more pointless than Samuel’s. A tiny lump of metal could ruin their flesh suits and snuff them out of existence as quickly as a pouncing tiger. Samuel had been shot many times himself but it was a lot less of an occasion for him. Angels saw no point in fighting over territory, by rule of thumb. They had fought amongst themselves in Heaven countless times, according to the legends, but that was fighting for the sake of fighting. All of them wanted to prove themselves the strongest. Except for Samuel. He had never seen much point in fighting, as far as he could recollect. That had been a relatively happy time.

And then Lucifer had arrived. Like a politician, he had spread unrest among the angels. He was different. He was almost human. He had talked about owning things and ruling countries. He had talked about armies and war. A lot of the angels had fallen in behind him. Some of them just wanted to hear what he had to say, others devoted themselves to him fanatically. Samuel never found his pointless rhetoric worth listening to. The Red Men did. They had gone with Lucifer through the gates and left Heaven behind, making the journey down to one of the physical planes; a world of materials, a world of dirt and dust. They had tried to rule it.

Heaven had lived in relative peace after that. After a while, the Eldest became worried about what Lucifer was doing. Having never left Heaven themselves, they had no idea what manner of beasts and dark powers lay outside their realm and they feared what Lucifer might come back with. In their almighty wisdom, the Eldest asked for volunteers. They made an army of their own and left Heaven to fight Lucifer. Samuel had been one of his volunteers, intrigued by the myths of even brighter lands than Heaven. He had followed them down and searched fruitlessly through a thousand empty worlds for the turncoats. Eventually they stumbled upon the Red Men. They had taken up refuge on a rock. Samuel and his comrades had fought them all the way back to the gateway to heaven, until hardly a single angel was left standing on either side. After that, Samuel didn’t remember very much. Something had happened, people had died. A few aeons had passed and now nobody was allowed back into Heaven. Lucifer had vanished, the doors between the worlds had been closed and Samuel had been forced to live out a pointless existence until time itself fell apart.

He didn’t tell any of this to Detective O’Connell, he just nodded his head until the Irishman gave an exasperated sigh and stormed out of the metal box, leaving Samuel alone with his thoughts.

Samuel raised his head slowly and shifted his weight in the chair. Guilty or not, there was nothing to be gained by sitting here. He had a task to do and only a short amount of time to complete it. The stab wound would be fatal, as they often were. Mortal bodies required a balanced equilibrium that involved keeping them intact and the blood on the inside.

In a heartbeat, Samuel made himself incorporeal. He still looked like any other human being, and he could still touch the desk in front of him, but he was no longer bound to the physical realm. He reached across his right wrist and lifted the metal arm off the handcuff out gently. It was still locked and yet the mechanism opened fluidly for him as he slid his right hand out. Releasing the cuff, it snapped quickly back into place and fell to the desk as if nothing had happened. Taking his time, Samuel released his left arm in the same fashion and stood up. He yawned and stretched, his spine clicking slightly from being cooped up in the chair for so long. There was no sense in hurrying, so Samuel took his time walking over to the metal door. He glanced through the wall to check that there was nobody in the corridor beyond before turning the handle and stepping out without even retracting the lock. The door swung quickly back into place and the bolt passed through the fastenings before settling back into place.

It wouldn’t have mattered much had the corridor been occupied by a hundred men, and Samuel walked briskly through the collection of desks and workstations without a single head turning to look at him. On his way to the door he stopped at the desk of the woman who had been typing earlier. Samuel stopped behind her desk and leaned over, allowing her to notice him. Everybody in the building could see him while he was incorporeal, but they couldn’t react to him. Their eyes would just pass over him like he was an ugly part of the furniture. The clerk behind the desk suddenly looked up in shock, her eyes meeting his. Before she could cry out, Samuel placed two fingers against the side of her neck. It was an old trick he had picked up, but still effective. The clerk stiffened and made no sound.

“You will be silent.” Samuel began in a monotone voice, maintaining eye contact and staring deep into her. “You will forget you have seen me. You will remove all records of me from your system. You will delete Samuel Mud.”

Breaking eye contact, Samuel stepped away from the desk and the woman blinked, no longer able to see him. Her eyes had the same glazed appearance as was common for somebody who had been hypnotised. It wasn’t a precise or very reliable technique, but unless he remembered how to get inside her head it was the best he could do. She went back to tapping away on her keyboard and Samuel continued his journey out of the police station, passing Detective O’Connell on the way out. The Irishman was making himself a mug of tea and Samuel dipped a finger in the liquid before drawing a smiley face out of a wet smear on the table. A childish prank, but definitely worth it. Samuel’s hat and coat were lying in a heap by the wall, and he scooped them up before slipping out through the open door.

The cold sun smiled down on Samuel Mud as he hailed a taxi cab and gave directions to the nearest hospital. He was going to pay his respects.

#book #chapter 1