C Thomas Howell Outsiders Novels & Stories

Thomas had plans for that void, and whatever walked out of it. “Maybe you are right Captain. A healthy woman just dies in her sleep with no warning or even a case of the hiccups.” Thomas downed the rest of his whiskey and walked out of his mother’s house wanting to stretch his legs. He wandered down the street in search of something or someone. That and many other memories like to sneak up on him. It had to because he wouldn’t allow it any other time. A bark brought him out of his haze bring him back to his kitchen. Grabbing some cheese and lunch meat and tossed it to Chester.

I met Thomas in the diner's parking lot, the same one where his girl worked; hopefully, this time, he paid more attention to our talk. “ What are you doing outside?” I asked him as we walked towards the door. “Getting some fresh air,” he replied, his words carrying some heaviness in them. We got in and took a seat at a table near the window at the far back of the Dinner, where Thomas was still able to keep an eye on his woman. “ So, the journal, how do you feel about it?” He asked as soon as we were done placing our orders. Oh, we're going straight into it, okay.

His words warmed her, but before she could respond, a faint noise drew her attention to a muffled thump from the hallway outside. Thomas’s body tensed immediately, his protective instincts kicking in. He motioned for Emma to stay back and stepped toward the door, his movements deliberate and cautious. “Stay here,” he whispered. Emma nodded, her heart pounding as she watched him peer through the peephole. “Damn it,” Thomas muttered under his breath, stepping away from the door and grabbing a heavy bookend from the shelf. “What is it?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Someone’s out there,” he said, his tone sharp. “Stay behind me.”

“Thomas is in the square. He has the script. He gave me a preview and he’s very loud.” “Good. Tell him to start.” I move back to the window. Thomas is a professional agitator. Hollis found him in a tavern near the border. He has a voice like a foghorn and the moral compass of a feral cat. I paid him ten gold pieces to stand on a crate and scream that Kieran is mentally unstable, that he sent Alexei away to sell pack secrets to Redmaw, and that the grain surplus is actually poisoned. It’s crude, yes. But fear is a crude instrument.

I smiled as I made a call, "Hello, officer? As far as I know, Madeline Lewis owed a huge gambling debt abroad, and she returned just to raise money. I suspect she might have trafficked Fable Lewis." An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth—I just had to get back at those who wronged me. Otherwise, what was the point of life?

he said for Gerald to nod. “Did she help him calm like that without his pills?” He asked for Thomas to nod. “That’s one reason he didn’t know his pills had been exhausted.” He said for Gerald to nod. “She’s going to be a hard one to chase away” he whispered walking away. Thomas sighs wondering what his madam did so much to receive such hate from the boss's family. A few kilometers away from the McCollum’s territory, Martha pushed the man in a wheelchair into a small apartment.

"The film 'Rambo' is being shown in the cinemas again. Do you want to go watch it with me?" I nodded and waved at him. "Okay. I'll wait for you to come pick me up." Thomas smiled as he saw me off. "I'm Thomas Hilton! Make sure you don't forget me!" I turned back and looked at him one last time before leaving. Later that night, there was only one lamp turned on in my study. The sound of my phone ringing broke the silence. John's voice sounded on the other end of the line. "I just received news, Ms. Shaw. Thomas has committed suicide."

I needed to check the perimeter, to prove to my paranoid mind that the fences were clear and that Claus was just playing psychological games. I grabbed a thick rain jacket, slipped my boots on, and stepped out into the damp evening air. The drizzle was cool against my burning face, temporarily dulling the sharp edge of my panic. I walked down the dirt path, intending to do a quick circle around the property and return immediately. But less than a quarter-mile down the lane, the gravel gave way to the wide entrance of the main barn, and there stood Mr. Thomas again. He was surrounded by four other farmers, all of them holding massive woven baskets stained with dark, rich earth.

And my arrival completely shattered that aesthetic. The massive SUV didn't just pull over; it dominated the entire drop-off lane. Thomas stepped out of the driver's seat, his massive frame instantly drawing the attention of a group of pre-law students standing near the stone archway. He stood on the sidewalk, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter, his hand resting casually near the lapel of his jacket where I could see the subtle bulge of a communication earpiece.

"Mavis, your resume says your parents live far out in the countryside, right? I've already found their address." She pressed the resume against the glass and pointed to the address. "Hayville. It's so deep in the mountains. What a miserable little backwater town." Thomas stood beside her and lit up a cigarette. "I know a few people near your hometown. If you don't sign that confession and put your thumbprint on it before the chairman's inspection this afternoon, your poor parents may end up with a few broken ribs." My eyes immediately turned cold. There had always been rumors that Thomas was once with the gangsters. He had managed to get into his current position by using dirty methods to se