93 Chapters
Endless Sleeping
"Ah...."Celandine observed the man curiously who just came out from the chamber, going downstairs. She noticed the small hand batch on his black robe, wondering what that might be meaning.  Suddenly everything around her changed. They traveled dawn to dusk, past woods and orchards and neatly tended fields, through small villages, crowded market towns, and stout holdfasts. Come dark, they would make camp and eat by the light of the moon and the lamps. The men took turns standing watch. Celandine would glimpse firelight flickeringthrough the trees from the camps of other travelers. There seemed to be more camps every night, and more traffic on the kingsroad by day.She somehow knew it was a dream.Morning, noon, and night they came, old folks and little children, big men and small ones, barefoot girls and women with babes at their breasts. Some drove farm wagons or bumped along in the back of ox carts. More rode: dra
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San Joaquin Community Hospital, San Francisco  Samlin Greenham I wake up from the strange dream.    Though I can't remember the dream and I don't feel or see any urge to remember it. My eyes move around the room, the smell of antiseptic hitting my nose. Almost everything around me is white, white bed cover over me, the curtains of the windows are white, the shirt I'm wearing right now is white. So, I am in a hospital, the place I hate most.  I slowly lift my head up, it's pounding like someone is squeezing it forcefully. I remove the oxygen mask from my face and push it to the ventilator machine. I inhale deeply, but it's feeling like there's lack of air in the room."You are awake?" Emilia and Lucas shout in unison, stepping in the room. She sits beside me on the bed and hugs me tightly, laughing. "Oh God, Sam! Did you have to scare us like that?""I scared you?" I smile slightly. "Tell
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Last Goodbye
San Francisco, USA September, 2016    Mahone tightens the knot of his black tie around his neck, then fixes the collar of his coat. Actually, suit-coat always makes him feeling uneasy, but since it's a mourning day, he can't go there with his usual outfits.    It has been three days since Garrett Greenham died. His daughter Samlin is sick, haven't waken up from coma yet in hospital, it was obvious that she would have a nervous breakdown again. Her mother was devastated after seeing them, she still is. The Greenham family has already declared the news of his death in the mass media, said the cause was an unknown assailant's gunshot. The police and detectives are investigating the case, but it's useless. Lynn and Mahone clearly saw who did that and the cops won't do anything about that, because The Conditorem always controls them. Since this two brothers brought his dead body, police questioned and suspected them, too, but
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Mahone quickly adjusts the scope rings for the second time and pulls the trigger."Hey, wait, wait," Lynn calls out at the walkie-talkie from the down road. "Stop shooting.""Why? I haven't emptied the chamber yet.""Stop it, Mahone."    He sighs and picks up the rifle by its carrying handle. He glances at the .50 BMG cartridges miserably, regretting that he can't use them anymore right now, his brother forbade him. He pushes the gun into a plastic container and eyes the rooftop for the last time, if someone was here, fortunately it is empty. He grips the bag tightly and steps to the emergency elevator for exit, covering his eyes by the cap, because police will be here in any moment."How many bullets did you use?" Lynn asks, when they both already got in the car."Seven. Five missed. Before you say somethin' I would like you to remind you that I'm not a professional sniper.""Where are the another two?" he steers the wheel
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Sam takes a seat on sofa, then heaves a sigh.    It looks like it's her first time in their house, he thinks. Truly, in his whole nineteen-years-old life, he never felt this kind of awkwardness in front of a girl before. Girls were easy and eager for him, eager to get in touch with him, because he had his charming looks and behavior to impress them. But this girl sitting front of him, somewhat makes him__ he can't detect it, an unknown feeling."Mahone, can you wake your brother up?" she looks up after a while. "It's important, I need to talk with him.""Um, okay. He's just taking a nap," he nods slightly, thinking of saying something else to her, but changes his mind."I'm already up," Lynn says from the staircases, coming down. His face looks a little swollen from sleeping, his hair is messy as usual. He quickly paces to her, "What's wrong, Sam? Are you okay?" he sits beside her on the sofa and kisses her cheek.She doesn't say anythin
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● Music recommendation : Not in that way      Mahone tiredly slams the door of his bedroom, unbuttoning his coat. He spent more than three hours at some secret underground space for a certain address, got into a few fights too, when he finally found it, but the thought of being betrayed made his blood boiling. So, he did something to the guy who gave him the address and all he's feeling now is tiredness, not any regret.He suddenly notices Lake lying on his bed. "What are you doing in my room?" he asks, pulling off his tie. "Don't you have your room? Go lie down there."  Lake glances at him for a second, then looks back the book she's holding. "I'm reading. I will go back when I finish this book. And no offense, but I couldn't like the guest room. It was kinda_ horror movies type room."Mahone starts to unbutton his shirt, stepping to his wardrobe. "It's Uncle Kramer's house, so no offense is taken. What are you reading
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Lynn Vandestine He pushes the door open of his new studio.   Painting has always been his hobby, but it is his first time to open a workshop like this. When he was in his adolescence, it wasn't one of his pleasant times. In order to lighten his mood, he used to climb up at the top of his favourite mountain, with papers and paints in the backpack. Often, he brushed colors gently on the canvas, while thinking if a girl would appear in front of him just like that drawing. Now, the place can catch a plenty of natural light, one of the reason why he bought this. The layout is flexible, it's enough big for his work. The paintings around the studio are mostly portraits, but he drew some landscapes, too, tried to do another genre."Hi, Tom!" he greets the guy, who is moving his brush with so much attention, benting towards the easel. Tom is a local artist and a student of art college, once Lynn helped his big brother with a mission, so he k
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Let's Talk
Samlin Greenham I open the stopper of toothpaste idly and stick some at my brush. I examine my face at the mirror - messy, high brown hair, static big blue eyes, red cheeks, swollen lips and wearing soft woollen pajamas.What did I do last night?As though to answer my question, my phone chimes with a chirp, lying on the cabinet. I pick up it and read the message.Lynn texted : 'Did you have a good sleep last night?'Last night? Was he with me? Where? Why can't I remember?I text : 'Were you with me? Was in the hospital? I know I might sound absurd but I can't remember it clearly.'Lynn : 'You really don't remember what you did do with me last night?' with a smirky emoji.What? What does he mean?   I quickly wash my face with water, rubbing my cheeks. Yesterday, at afternoon, I was at our family graveyard, wasn't I? I spent some time there alone and talked. Then_ I went to a bar maybe. Oh God, I must hav
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   It's almost midnight.    I quietly climb up the stairs to the rooftop. There is a little garden of flowers, now they are starting blossoming. I inhale deeply the sweet scent of them, crossing my arms across my chest. The air is cold but refreshing, it starts to calm my mind and I slowly stare up at the sky.     It was my father who first taught me about the stars and constellation. I used to climb up a banyan tree beside our house, then jump at the roof. Dad also used to say that it was dangerous for me to go to the roof at night, but when I capriced to him to teach me the names of stars, he couldn't deny me. It's a moonless night, yeah, there is my favorite star, Rigil Kentaurus. I sigh again, watching the large constellation Ursa Major. Why am I sighing? Shouldn't I be happy tonight? Is something bothering me? "Watching stars?" a male voice says behind me, h
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Forbidden Fruit
   I lay behind my back, before the boat, and into darkness I must row. I rowed with weak arms, watching my hands to make sure I kept hold of the oars, for I could not feel my grip. I came thus into rough water and the dark, out on the open Gulf. There I had to stop. With each oarstroke the numbness of my arms increased. My heart kept bad time, and my lungs had forgotten how to get air. I tried to row but I was not sure my arms were moving. I tried to pull the oars into the boat then, but could not. When the sweet light of a harbour patrol ship picked me out of the night like a snowflake on soot, I could not even turn my eyes away from the glare.             They unclenched my hands from the oars, hauled me up out of the boat, and laid me out like a gutted blackfish on t
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