“Thank you,” I accepted the glowing blue light and closed my eyes, clear of questions.            I woke up to the bantering around the fire, “Lukas, you did it again! I’m so proud of you, brother. How do you come up with these ideas?”            “What’s going on?” my eyes half-

            I sat at the backseat of the car, watching the passing trees like the ones on a boring TV channel. My thoughts wandered on Rosie’s whereabouts since our last encounter. Did she go back into the glade of flowers? My eyes expanded on the image of her being torn into pieces.            “Stop the car!” I screamed.          

            “This is another sad morning for Crimson Stone,” a sharply dressed male presenter stood by the white screen. “Today, we mourn the people who got butchered inside the local pub last night. May their souls find peace.”            He continued in a stern voice, wearing a grim remorse, “Some of the survivors claimed that a suspicious man, about six feet tall, smiled at them with a crooked smile etched across his face. The police found no leads as to the whereabouts of this man. The residents are advised to—.&rdquo

            I peered over the stairs as dad reached for the door.            “Oh, hello there, neighbor!” a smartly dressed man in green had a plate of pastries in hand.            “Mmm, they smell delicious. Are these for me?”   

            “Is anybody there? Help! Somebody, please help me!” it sounded so real this time. Was this one of his tricks?            “Florissa?” my eyes darted at the rustling chunks of debris behind me.            “Keep your eyes here, boy,” three sharp lines swiped at my cheek.