The One Way Ticket

The One Way Ticket

By:  Stephen  Completed
Language: English
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When the firmament becomes filthy with barbaric bats,And the ground begins to revolt bySputtering out appetizing red liquids and Enticingly galling skeletons.Scamper off to your secure nests, dear humans,And inhale every feeling of protection.For within the space of two heartbeats,The "sanctuary" feeling will be lost In the chaos for tranquility.

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51 Chapters
A wet-with-perspiration, flaming red, huge mess of hair scattered itself all over Myan Warray - sometimes coming against his line of vision as he thrusted himself into a grunting, receiving Eveth Engow who instinctively reached for her well worn, threadbare black shawl as a knock rattled on the faded wooden door of her cottage that threatened to fall over.Myan crossly pulled out of a disappointed Eveth, his mistress."Who's at the door!?" Eveth spoke out loud, making no attempt to hide her displeasure at the disturbance as she shot a long, suspicious look at the door before the sweaty body of Myan rolled over to the other side of the silky, straw bed making way for her to get to the door.The neigh of horses and the bleating of a few goats drifted into the room where Myan lay - lazily as Eveth answered whoever it was that had disturbed their privacy on such an erotic, hot afternoon, subconsciously patting her shawl into place.
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The lantern outside the small, timbermade cabin whose ember orange illumination swung stopped suddenly.There was no one out there, nothing out there. Nothing could survive - nothing but maybe his lantern.It increased in brightness then reduced and he strained his eyes to see if maybe, there was someone there - no one, not a soul. The lantern knocked itself over with a rattle a few seconds before extinguishing itself, leaving him to his... fears.He heard the mourning howls of the hoary, pristine metals of swing chairs clanging against each other but there was none around. The last time he saw one was the previous night and it was dripping with fresh, warm blood.He retreated deeper into the pitch dark, no, black room as he felt the overwhelming presence of creatures he'd never heard of all his life there.He didn't know how or what t
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Saturdays were famous for being bubbly and lazy in the Police Department, Ingfalls. The days that fell into the the weekend section were considered half days by the PD and that was why Eallric Hancey's Peugeot 404 could be seen driving out of no. 3, Atholl Esplanade, in the Eleventh hour of the day to work, with his car's radio frequency on Vintage Inspiration (97.3 FM) blasting old Rock 'n' Roll music.The enchanting sun's bright, pleasant rays had unfurled gently like a peacock's feathers will for admiration by hankering spectators and had extended itself to all of Ingfalls; and it's neighbouring provinces that made up Wabrook, with golden luminescence.Eallric's 404 zoomed down a slanted, narrow-laned boulevard where he sped past a woman in an orange, flowered gown pushing a bassinet along with her, before his car spewed collected earth from the tarred road all over an old man with a tobacco pipe hanging between his lips. As he tu
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Flaxen haired Cwena Engow awakened a few minutes ahead of her alarm clock's habitual screech that ran through dawn's tranquility causing agitation to her dreams every morning.She lazily sat up on her modest bed, pushing out the varying pitches of crickets seeking a mate and staring at a couple of pictures that dangled from the flowered, pale, yellow walls of her room. The first portrait was of a five year old minor with a bright grin on her small face with pouted lips trying to blow out the candles on her cake. The second was when she was around nine, she'd insisted on dying her hair black when she'd gone with her parents to Hythorp; one of the provinces that made up Wabrook, west of Ingfalls.She glanced at the third painting before yawning loudly, causing droplets of tears to fill her eyes.As she stood up from her bed, unto the cold, white tiles, the corner of her eyes flashed at the first frame, but this time, there was something
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The rest days of the week hastened away - one after the other, like an avalanche of snow and ice, and in no time, it was Saturday; the day Gerey and Cwena had planned to examine the odd, frayed book Oswic had given them.Gerey woke up around at exactly 9:53 a.m. just as he'd set his alarm to do every Saturday which (when compared to the norm), was later than usual - and odd, too. He spent about an hour cleaning his teeth, washing his body, polishing his hair and putting on a shiny black raglan sleeve.As he stepped out of his room, the delicious scent of Aunt Brione's Bacon and Eggs blew his way, and like a cowboy's lasso, it culled Gerey to the kitchen.The dining room held a pretty large, polished, Chestnut coloured dining table where Gerey sat, impulsively pattering his thumb and two other fingers on the table whilst whistling a familiar tune he'd know all his life. Behind him, next to a window that allowed the sun's ray in, on a f
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“What the...!!”Gerey roared out. After all they'd been through, the curiousity they'd bore for a week, listening to the nonsense the Old trickster who'd manipulated their Principal into sacking their beloved Mr. Alas Sergo had spilled in class, the book was empty?!They'd both gone astray in their thoughts thinking of the vile and mean and dirty and old Oswic Osbald, and they didn't realize a large mouth with an awkwardly red tongue that spawned out of nowhere, clasped to the yellow, brittle paper of the book. It was a huge shock that shuddered through them when an insolent, loud and shameless voice shouted at them, “What are you two doing! Keeping me open?”They were both taken aback, Cwena looked up at the window to see if anyone was there and Gerey stared at the door, expecting anyone to come in at that moment.“I'm the book you dolts!” the book said in a boring, matter
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Inspector Bertio cautiously put his phone to his ear like it will explode, making a ruin of the unblemished building of the Police Department, Ingfalls, if he didn't employ ample care.A mild voice, chock-full with supremacy, domination and authority spoke on the other end.“I know for sure that your constabulary is very well aware of the case at Radford Glade - the disappearance of everyone present for Mr. Wadsev's promotion to CEO - a total of Seventeen individuals including Mr. Wadsev and his wife, and I'm also certain that radical actions are already being executed or formulated by the police force - but - YOU MUST HURRY,” the person on the other end paused, “and we expect a report from the Chief Inspector, personally, latest by Monday.”“Okay sir -” Bertio replied like a programmed doll.“And did I add that,” the voice subsided to a hush, “the pres
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Eallric's 404 slid out of the garage like a caterpillar out of its burrowed habitat. The red of its tail light flashed on Gerey who stood a few metres; in his Ingfalls High's raiment, making known to Eallric the places he couldn't see with the side mirror - to avoid a scratch. After a minute of hitting on the break pedal before allowing it slither out of the carport bit by bit and without a scratch, Gerey hastily shoved his school bag into the secondary division of the car and sat his butts down next to Eallric who was breathing noisily and grinning from ear to ear like a numskull at Brione who waved the duo off as they slowly departed no. 3, Atholl Esplanade.  As they propelled down Atholl Esplanade - past a few rusty streetlamps, in the warm restrictions of the car that failed to protect them from the blisteing morning sun, Eallric turned on the radio and tune
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Inspector Eallric's 404 picked up pace as it raced down a sloped, remote alleyway which went on below a bridge that connected Brickfield Row and Dove Route together. The alley, Providence Passage, had congested waste bins - places of tourism for flies and maggots, nearly everywhere one's neck turned.  As the Peugeot 404 zoomed on; below the friable, unkempt bridge, a retrospect of what he'd experienced on Saturday, along Haunted Hart, as he went on police business to Radford Glade, played in his mind. Right from the very moment he'd driven out of the dark, mind blowing scenery, he couldn't firmly say that he'd seen what he did. It was like a dream. A nightmare. And even if by chance, he was certain of what he'd seen and his mental state, there was absolutely no one buying his tale. A shadowy sensation befell Eallric as him, and his car, were shielded from the su
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The words of Sir. Oswic replayed and echoed in Gerey's head as small dribbles of sweat ran down his red hair and tickled his armpits in attempts to let out (at least) fume from his aching arms, “You are the harbinger of sanity to this ignoble world - the gift itself being ‘Pyrokinesis’.”“I - I can't do this.” Gerey retorted, gasping for breath. “Don't say that my dear boy. If you had thoughts of being able to burn down churches, or create volcanoes or even melt a piece of plastic on your first day, you have been dwelling in your fantasies, and this - is reality. Guess what else is reality, boy?”“Ugh, what, sir?” Gerey asked, heaving and puffing like he'd trotted all the way from Ledale to Deham without stopping for a rest. He looked straight into the waned, wise eyes of the wizard, Sir. Oswic.“The verity that this world rests not on my shoulders, no
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