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CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
“What's taking him so long?” Trisha asked, picking up a smoothened pebble from its cluster—on the ground, and throwing it weakly onto the graveled asphalt that spread out in front of them; a route for Golden Lake's professors to drive past to their offices—in their cars.
“I can't tell but our dorm is not too close to here, so of course, it'll take him some time.” Wilkes said.
He turned his left wrist to its fore side; the part that concealed his veins, and stared at his black wristwatch that was given to him by his mother on her deathbed; “Many say that time waits for no man, but in reality, we are the ones going. Time waits. It always has and always will.” That had been her last words before pushing the watch into his trembling hands.“He's been gone for a little over nine minutes,” he said still peering down on the wristwatch that was strapped to his wrist and in response, he got a nod from Trisha who pushed her glasses up her nose for
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Omega (Book 1) CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
“Why will he write that to us—to me?” Harold said, looking at the dark smears that crisscrossed the poorly torn sheet of paper that was clutched in Trisha's fingers. It stunk of engine oil; the kind that had seen better days in the engines of vehicles.Their gazes fell ahead of them as though they hadn't heard Harold and onto the asphalt which was beginning to darken as a chunk of white cloud slid beneath the sun for seconds before coming out on the other side, as radiant and hot as before.None of them had a theory to answer what Harold had asked hence, they had shifted their attention to two snowy gulls that flew after the other with occasional hoots into the bluish clouds.“Do you think Chloe knows about this?” Wilkes said suddenly. “She might tell us something.”“I doubt it. Wasn't she asking us what poem we were talking about half an hour —”“Guys!” Trisha said loudly, breaking off Harold and Girard
Omega (Book 1) CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
“What do we do now?” Wilkes asked, trotting alongside Harold and Trisha on the asphalt, away from the bleacher where they were sat minutes ago.The sun had retrograded into a snug compromise between afternoon and evening and a fairly golden filter—the shade of fresh honey, had laved Golden Lake's land territory and all that were in it.“What do we do now?” Trisha repeated. “We wait for patent proof that Prof. Ericson—or anyone else bearing the name, had been the one that sent the letter to Harold. That's what we do now; wait.”They strolled past a carpark that edged the entrance of three sky-high buildings and out of a Mercedes came a tall man with hair like cotton balls and an old-fashioned suspender that hugged his shoulder to his seedy shorts.He stared at Harold through his unclear eyesight as they walked past his blue vehicle but they didn't notice him; not for a nanosecond.“The contest
Omega (Book 1) CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
“What did he mean by no wolf has ever won it and they die mysteriously?” Harold said dreadfully, forgetting to be silent. The long hushes like a foamy sponge sliding down a gruff wall that came immediately from Wilkes and Trisha quietened him but not before Mrs. Perry got wind of his words.“Who's there?” Mrs. Perry voiced into the dense darkness of the library. A racket mildly shuddered through the environment as she closed the thousand-paged encyclopedia she was attending to after ‘playing’ with Prof. Ericson's aide.Her hands swung swiftly against the other and a matchstick went ablaze, the orange fireball slowly descending down the matchstick whilst swaying left and right like a kid learning to ride a bicycle. She adeptly swung the matchstick into a glass orb and a kerosene lantern began to glow as a orange flame with a bluish base danced in it, shielded from external forces that could extinguish it like the wind.Trisha w
Omega (Book 1) CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
It was the first workday of a new week; Monday, and like a worm slithering sluggishly on the mouldy soil towards its home burrowed deep in the earth, the contest, ‘Vestige of the Aptest’, drew nigh.The morning sun soared above the faint umber-stained skyline East of Golden Lake and its pleasant warmth sprinkled over the students—who were going about their morning businesses, and the dewed meadows, pastures and buildings, too.That monday morning wasn't as glorious as the ones the students had grown accustomed to over the weeks but still, it was more magnificent than average morns around the world and that was enough.Golden Lakers, though, (on an average) weren't too perturbed about the weather conditions as they had a lot on their plates to deal with—which was customary to Mondays, and one of the many people who didn't was Harold Girard who presently had Religious Studies in the LycanthropesDivision before Geography i
Omega (Book 1) CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Like Harold's last religious studies class a week ago, he was one of the first set of students to leave the lecture room. It was exactly a week ago when Harold had received the strange letter—after his class, that his life had begun to steer in the path of destruction and now, he was entirely en route his death and there was nothing he could do.He was going to end up like the wolf Francis had mentioned in his journal, Margaret.As he hurried past the heated bodies of students; werewolves like him, who seemed to have forgotten all they had been taught minutes ago, he felt the weight of Prof. Travis’ dark pupils on the back of his neck; an extra weight he didn't want to carry, and that propelled him to move faster towards the exit.He got out of Citadel J—where the class had been held, and breath out deeply, picked up his brown leather bag and hurried to his next class which happened to be the last before he had his break in the cafeteria
Omega (Book 1) CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
The clouds right above Golden Lake University; hostels, buildings, cafeteria, pool, too, and everything that fell into Golden Lake's territory were ruddy and as the clouds stretched towards the skyline, they gradually faded like an old piece of clothing that had become a rag to a shade of pale brown; the kind of brown found on maple leaves during autumn.Harold lay coiled on his bed like a millipede under attack with his wooly blanket that knocked off dawn's chilly weather stretching from his curled toes—that touched the end of his bed, all the way to his neck. His eyelids were closed in a slumber and he snored gently in a calming rhythm.All of a sudden he jolted up, gasping for breath, like a swimmer who had held his breath under water for hours, his eyes failing to blink as he looked all around barely able to make out the grotesque raincoat—that hadn't come to any use so far, hanging from a nail drilled into the wall beside the door, or Wil
Omega (Book 1) CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
In a blurry haste, Harold Girard ousted his nightcloth and in its place, a casual plain blue shirt that hugged the upper part of his body and denim jeans covered his nudity. He flicked on the electric bulb switch strapped to the wall and the pale dark lightbulb that hung from the center of the room came alive.He rashly picked up his phone and texted Trisha;WILKES IS GONE. DON'T GO TO ANY CLASS YET, I'M COMING TO YOUR HOSTEL.He shoved his phone into his pocket as a cuss escaped his lips then he dashed out of his room, latched the door and bolted down the hallway which was empty but for an obese student with too much blonde hair that rambled to his left. He got to the staircase before spiralling downwards and heading out into the calm, chill and unruffled morn.He brought out his phone expecting a reply from Trisha as he peered down on the screen whilst jogging down the asphalt and heavin
Omega (Book 1) CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Trisha McLeon and Wilkes Milton sat on the cold ground that reeked of urine in a very small and dark room with their hands uncomfortably fastened behind their backs with thick horsewhips that dug into their skins.Neither of them remembered how they had gotten there. One moment they were on their beds in their different rooms—at dawn, and the next moment they were in a mysterious room in the middle of nowhere, tied like rams who'll be slaughtered for a feast. “What... What is this about, Trisha. Any idea?” Wilkes whispered, fear having overrode his sense of reasoning.“None. Not a single idea,” Trisha replied then paused to relive all that had happened to her and Wilkes in the forty minutes they'd been in the sullen room before speaking again.“I'm scared,” she confessed. “All this makes no sense. I mean, Harold in all sincerity, has a very very low chance of surviving the contest,” she paused again and tried to co
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