Pompeii
“Valeria . . . Valeria, can you hear me?” a strange voice
echoed as the young woman struggled to open her eyes seeing two tall young
girls possibly in their late teens dressed in white togas at her side. “She’s
coming to,” said one of the girls.
“Where . . . where am I?”
“You are in the House of the Vestals, my dear. You passed
out a short time ago as you were working out in the garden on your jug and hit
your head on one of the pedestals. You know you were told to avoid being in the
sun too long with your fair skin,” the first girl spoke.
“And who are you?”
Both girls looked at each other quizzically.
“I am Dalanya and this is Catania, your Vestal Sisters.”
Dalanya took her hand and helped Valeria to sit up on the cot.
“I don’t remember any of this I tell you, the young woman
claimed as she glanced around at her surroundings. Her eyes scanned the area
that revealed tall pillars and large marble statues that led out to a massive
courtyard with a huge fountain. “This has to be a dream! I mean—”
“Catania has sent for the Medicus. He should be here
shortly,” Dalanya said as she laid her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “He’ll
know what to do.”
An older man dressed in multicolored robes carrying a large
satchel approached from the outside patio entering the small chamber. He had
instructed Dalanya and Catania to inform him as to what had occurred.
“I know this young lady. She has simply fainted. I have
treated her before for a similar condition. A vial of Posca is all she needs.
She gets dehydrated easily. He pulled a small vial from his satchel and
instructed her to drink, which she did.
She wiped her lips after chugging down the entire contents
of the vial and gave the Medicus a skeptical look. “Exactly what’s in that?” She
scrunched up her nose showing her distaste for the drink.
“It’s a mixture of vinegar, water, and herbs,” he said.
“My name is Ramethius, the Medicus and I believe you may
also have a slight concussion from hitting your head.”
“Oh,” the woman uttered as he checked her eyes and head
using a strange instrument from his bag that managed to clamp open her eyes.
“Her pupils are not dilated but she still may have a slight
concussion,” he announced as he turned to the girls. “Best to keep an eye on
her the rest of the day. Make sure you don’t let her sleep.”
“Why can’t she remember who she is? Dalanya asked.
“Well, she’s one of the oldest Vestals here, I mean—”
Catania added. “Could be her age.”
“It may be a temporary case of amnesia. It should return in
time,” Ramethius said as he secured his bag. “Now I must go as I’m needed at
the House of Faun.”
Both Dalanya and Catania sat next to Valeria giving her
words of comfort but most of all encouraging her to rest.
“Your artwork can wait, Sister,” Dalanya said, taking her
hand. “You heard what the Medicus said.
“Rest . . . rest! I can’t rest!” She shot up. “I have to
finish my piece for the art show for Aulius Restituto. It will be featured
among some of the other fine pieces here in Pompeii then grace the main hall of
the house of Vetti.”
The girls both looked at each other astounded. “Well then, I
guess her amnesia has instantly returned,” Dalanya said.
“It was probably the mention of artwork that brought her
back,” Catania said. “We both know how obsessive she is about that show she
keeps talking about.”
Valeria tried to rise from her cot but both girls gently
pushed her back to a lying position. “You will rest here for a few hours.”
Valeria reasoned she had to agree to the girls’ wishes but
knew once they were out of sight, she’d plan to get back to painting her jug.
She watched the girls walk through the archway that led out
to the lush gardens. I can only hope to see my beloved Marcus. I know he
will be working in the kitchens today at the Vetti House. I long to feel his
strong arms around me again. We’ve managed to keep this secret for some time
now. Should we be caught- I’d be banned from the House of Vestals and he being
a slave would be sentenced to death!
Valeria felt a slight dizziness sensation overtake her and
decided to sit for a while until it had passed. I’ve got to finish that jug.
Tomorrow is the show and I’ll crawl if I have to get it over there. She
fiddled with her long black braid that hung to one side over her shoulder
making sure the gold threads were securely in place that were weaved into the
braid. A Vestal always had to look her best whenever she was out in the public
eye.
“We both know what she’s up to,” Dalanya said as she and
Catania walked through the garden.
“You mean that slave, Marcus that works over at the Vetti
House?”
“Yes, Rumor has it she’s been sneaking off to see him.”
“It’s true, and if she’s caught, we both know the
consequences both of them will face,” Dalanya said as she bent down to smell
the flowery scent of a hearty lilac bush.
“You going to tell on her?” Catania asked.”
“No. I don’t think we need to be known as spies here.
Besides she is close to being released from her service very soon. She can be
with Marcus all she wants then.”
The ground shook with tremors and some of the larger garden
pots had moved.
“Not that again!” Catania shouted. “This is the second time
this week it’s happened.”
“Not to worry, it’s very common as you well know, Dalanya
said trying to calm her friend. That
volcano has to release the pressure now and then, my friend. Now let’s head
over to the Temple of Isis and make sure all is well over there.”
Valeria also felt the tremors as she tried to gain some steadiness to stand. “Great! Just what I need now,” she murmured.
Continue reading the story in the book:
https://books2read.com/u/m27NQd
What if you think the known world isn’t strange enough? Embark on a journey that pushes the boundaries, challenges your perception, and questions reason, logic, and established beliefs.
The stories are also available separately in eBooks
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5 out of 5 stars
Beautiful stories perfectly narrated
I enjoyed each of the stories. Erika created believable characters and situations. Pat Mahoney's narration was excellent. I was impressed by his range as he change his voice between characters. His music also enhanced the listening experience without detracting from the stories themselves.
5 out of 5 stars
Great audiobook!
I enjoyed this audiobook very much. The stories by Erika Szabo were well written and engaging. The narration by Pat Mahoney brought all the characters to life. The music added to the enjoyment of the stories. Highly recommended!
5 out of 5 stars
Intense Cozy Shorts
These cozy mysteries went from absolutely creepy to seriously intense and I loved every moment of it. The stories are well written, entertaining and full of intricate twist that make you want to keep listening. The cozy shorts are different and some are quite unique. I would definitely recommend this book to anyone who loves mysteries that range from the paranormal to second chances. This is my honest unbiased review.
5 out of 5 stars
Erika loves to dance to her own tunes and follow her dreams, introducing her story-writing skills and her books that are based on creative imagination with themes such as magical realism, alternate history, urban fantasy, cozy mystery, sweet romance, and supernatural stories. Her children’s stories are informative, and educational, and deliver moral values in a non-preachy way.
The Inspiration:
Many legends come out of the Caribbean, with many that still
believe in spirits, evil mermaids, voodoo, and other local tales. Living on the
island of Grand Cayman for nine years, I have heard many of these, which
sparked my interest, and most of all, listening firsthand about a paranormal
experience from a woman who was renting a condo in the same complex my husband
and I had rented for a year.
Not many would listen to her accounts of a strange entity taking possession of her body and soul. She found me, and I was one she seemed to trust. I had made recordings of her incidents and many notes, knowing that I would someday write a story that had been based on some of these accounts.
Santianna:
This exotic beauty is a legend among the people of Jamaica
and the Caymans, yet some would only get to know her when they were fighting
for their lives or happened to be victims of her next feeding.
Having been scorned many years ago by her fiancé, a seaman who jilted her, Santianna threw herself into the sea but was rescued by a family of Mer People who saved her life only to transform her into an evil mermaid who would become immortal by taking the souls of males. Right after Hurricane Ivan hit Grand Cayman in 2004, the waters unearthed her presence, and with her powers intensified, she set her sights on a small resort on the east end of Grand Cayman.
The Rescue of Tessa Malone:
Tessa and her husband had booked a suite at Paradise Palms
in Grand Cayman for their honeymoon and were snorkeling out by the reef when
Tessa lost sight of her husband and hit her head on the reef. Beginning to
drown, she found herself being saved by Santianna—or at least she thought she
was.
An Excerpt from Night Mistress of Paradise Palms:
She could see a faint white mist in the distance and feel a
slight breeze picking up. Hearing what sounded like someone humming a tune
caused her to muster enough energy to raise her head to see if it was a storm.
The white mist took on the form of a waterspout and moved at a steady speed
toward her. The humming became clearer but was subtle—one that reminded her of
a lullaby she remembered hearing when she was a child. As the mist came closer,
Tessa could see it emerge into the transparent form of a woman encased in a
golden aura. “Don’t fear my lady. I am here to save you.” The apparition seemed
to float on the water as she was now about two feet from Tessa.
“Who... who are you?”
“I am Santianna,” answered the apparition. I was in the
water when your husband drowned you.” Her body wavered as she spoke, her long
dark locks moved like serpentine snakes in the breeze. “I’m so sorry what
happened to you.”
“No! He couldn’t! Not my Joe! And why didn’t you try to save
me if you were there?”
“I could not. I couldn’t change your destiny, my dear. All I
can do is promise to keep your spirit alive until you have found a way to cross
over. You have unfinished business here; your life was taken too soon.”
“Are you an angel?” Tessa asked.
“You may have heard of me. I’m more of an enigma. I am a Sea
Goddess. I hail from Jamaica. It’s been eons ago that I was murdered in these
same waters, by a man, whom I thought loved me too. Now I help souls in need
who meet an untimely death. I’m not sure you’ve heard the legends.”
Santianna positioned herself next to Tessa. Her body had now
solidified into a full female figure, but one far from normal. Her bluish skin
and radiant golden eyes belonged to that of a creature not of this earthly
realm. Santianna moved her long slender hands over Tessa’s body while golden
sparks shot off from her heavy bronze cuff bracelets on each arm. She hummed
that same calming tune Tessa was familiar with. It was haunting, yet
comforting. “You should be feeling the vibrations now, my lady. Relax, and let
them come. Accept this gift.”
Tessa was too weak yet to comment but closed her eyes and
succumbed to Santianna’s commands. What felt like piercing needles under her
skin soon turned to a radiant heat that ran from her head down through her
toes. Her pale skin began to take on some color. She found herself strong
enough to sit up fully, taking in more of her surroundings and trying to
comprehend what was happening. She glared at this apparition trying to figure
out what kind of spirit she was. “You... you are doing this for me because...”
“Because I have been wronged long ago, just as you have my
dear. You will join me in reclaiming justice.”
“But if I’m dead, I want to cross over! When will that be?”
Tessa locked eyes with Santianna. Her mind was still a blur over what had
happened.
“Once you have captured the souls of seven males. This will
be your fuel to enable you to pass on. During that time, you will be bound to
this area and will cleanse this place of years of wrongdoings. It’s the only
way.”
“But if I’m dead, I want to cross over! When will that be?”
Tessa locked eyes with Santianna. Her mind was still a blur over what had
happened.
“Once you have captured the souls of seven males. This will
be your fuel to enable you to pass on. During that time, you will be bound to
this area and will cleanse this place of years of wrongdoings. It’s the only
way.”
Tessa gave Santianna an incredulous look. “Just how long
will that take?”
“It’s up to you. There are many guests at the Trade Winds.
You can steal one each night or take as long as you need.”
“And how do I go about this?”
“It will come naturally. You are now in spirit form and a
sexual enchantress. Your victims will view you as a transparent being whom
they will desire to have their bodies ravished. You will
find this to be rejuvenating for you. With each soul capture, you will gain
more strength which will help you cross over more easily. Your power has been
gifted through me.”
“And what about Joe? He needs to suffer. What will happen to
him?” Tessa voiced concern.
“That my dear will be taken care of. Justice will come,
trust me.”
“So, I’ll remain out here at sea for all this time?”
“Yes, just as foam on the water until darkness falls and you
will find your nourishment in the night off a living male. You will come to
enjoy it—you will see.”
“And where shall you be? Will I see you again?”
“I will be here, but you will not see me until your journey is done. I’ll be the one who will be escorting you to the other side. Until then, my sister, find solace in the sleep you so need to begin your journey. Praise be the goddess!”
Read this story in its entirety in the Supernatural Thriller Night Mistress of Paradise Palms. Available in eBook and print.
Coyote Morning
By Robert Allen Lupton
Coyote stands on broken sidewalk
watching weeds where children played.
Sensing movement among broken toys,
his nose twitches,
his ears perk,
his eyes focus.
A doll shifts,
her hair tangled, her dress tattered.
Her eyes don’t blink.
No cry of protest when she’s shoved akimbo
against a battered bicycle seat.
A furry nose pokes above
the feral profusion of abandoned lawn.
The coyote tenses.
He freezes.
He watches.
He waits.
Eyes follow his questing nose.
A rabbit looks above rusted spokes
seeking food and safety.
He finds neither.
The coyote pounces.
The rabbit squirms.
The coyote snaps.
Spits a mouthful of fur.
Stares at the hole under the bicycle,
sniffs the doll
and walks away.
He licks his lips.
Tomorrow.
He’ll feed tomorrow.
With no more people, all the tomorrows are his.
Robert Allen Lupton
https://robertallenlupton.blogspot.com
Robert Allen Lupton is retired and lives in
New Mexico. He has three novels, seven short story collections and three edited
anthologies available in print and audio versions. Over 2000 of his Edgar Rice
Burroughs themed drabbles and articles are located on erbzine.com
My heart aches whenever I come across videos of dogs being
forced to walk on their hind legs wearing tutus. The terror in their eyes
is evident, a reflection of the fear instilled by their abusers. I cannot help
but speak out in the comments against such cruelty, "Why are you torturing that poor animal? For likes on your video?" These poor dogs are manipulated
and subjected to abuse; they're forced to perform an unnatural act. Their bones and
muscles are not built for this kind of movement, causing them great discomfort.
Take a moment to visualize being forced to run on all fours
with your legs completely straight, unable to bend them. The thought of being
beaten if you didn't comply adds to the discomfort and pain. Now imagine how
uncomfortable and painful it must be for four-legged animals when they are
forced to walk on two legs.
The sight always brings back memories of the first and last
time my parents took me to the circus. I was young and innocent, but even then,
I could see the fear in the majestic lion's eyes as he was forced to leap
through a blazing hoop. I cried in disgust and anger as I turned to my father
and asked him, "Why is the lion so afraid of that man? He could kill him
with one swipe of his paw." My dad explained how the animals are trained
to perform, and we left. After that experience, my parents never took me to the
circus again.
Utilizing animals for entertainment purposes entails immense cruelty. These creatures do not possess the innate ability to ride bicycles, balance on their heads, or leap through hoops of flames. Traditional methods of training circus animals involve physical abuse and punishment. Animals are repeatedly beaten, shocked, and whipped to perform tricks that are unnatural and beyond their physical abilities.
The lives of animal performers are filled with suffering and humiliation. Constant travel, confinement, and torture to perform tricks strip wild animals of any chance to fulfill their natural physical, behavioral, and emotional needs. Their existence behind the scenes is mistreatment and abuse.
I'm not referring to the positive reinforcement techniques used to train service animals. You see a sense of fulfillment and accomplishment when you gaze into their eyes. These animals understand the significance of their role and take pride in performing it well. The trainers use positive rewarding methods and patiently wait for the animals to learn and understand what is expected of them. Also, the trainers never force them to do anything that is physically against their comfortable, natural movements.
Also, animals shouldn't be treated like accessories. A cute puppy toted in a purse and dressed in human attire is a sentient being with the capacity to live, breathe, and feel. Treat animals as close to their nature as possible.
Animals, including birds, cats, pigs, and especially dogs, have a natural desire to please their favorite humans and will often create tasks for themselves. Also, they can be natural clowns to amuse themselves or do something naughty to test the boundaries.
We had a Kuvasz mix who would wait at the gate each day for the postman, take the newspaper from him, and bring it into the kitchen. We never trained or commanded him to do so. The first time he brought the newspaper in, my dad patted him on the head, told him he was a good boy, and rewarded him with a chicken leg. From then on, our dog seemed to take his job of fetching the newspaper very seriously and happily did it every day.
When a pesky fly found its way into the house, my cat, Mirci, watched me as I tried to swat it away. But when the fly got too close to her, she sprang into action, capturing it with her sharp claws and ending its life with precision. She then presented me with the deceased insect on my lap, looking up at me for praise. I couldn't help but praise her for her hunting skills. After that day, no fly stood a chance against her keen instincts and lightning-fast reflexes. Although I wasn't thrilled about the occasional dead mouse or frog she left on the doormat as a present, I couldn't stay mad at her when she looked up at me with such pride and happiness. So, I learned to tolerate her hunting expeditions and thanked her for the "presents" she brought me.
Our funniest dog was a small, nimble mutt named George. Thanks to our spacious, enclosed yard, we rarely took him for walks; he had plenty of room to run and play as he pleased. Unfortunately for our cat, George's mischievously playful nature often led him to invent new games that irritated her. George despised bath time and getting his paws wet in the snow, but he still braved the outdoors to do his business. One day, he realized that if he lifted his hind legs and balanced on his front paws, his hind legs would stay dry. It was a comical sight until he started relieving himself and accidentally drenched the white hair on his chest and chin instead of painting the snow yellow. That day, he gladly let me put him in the tub without any complaints.
What is your opinion about using animals for entertainment?
Erika loves to dance to her own tunes and follow her dreams, introducing her story-writing skills and her books that are based on creative imagination with themes such as magical realism, alternate history, urban fantasy, cozy mystery, sweet romance, and supernatural stories. Her children’s stories are informative, and educational, and deliver moral values in a non-preachy way.
“We were
together. We were home. We were in our world whirling through our universe. It
was a perfectly common day. We were in our right timeline and in our right
dimension. We were living. Everything around us was normal. Nothing was amiss.
We received no warning that it was all about to go badly amiss.
At first, we
didn’t realize we were being dragged somewhere else, somewhere not normal. We
just suddenly felt hot. Our planet is always cool. We have not traveled to
other planets in our universe. We did not know if we had been teleported to
some other planet that was hot. We wondered if we stumbled into some time
portal and had traveled not to another planet but to the prehistoric past of
our own planet, which was thought to have been much warmer many millennia ago.
However, we have
not been taken to another planet in our universe or to another time on our
planet. We hadn’t even been taken to some parallel universe as the place we
found ourselves was too unlike our universe to be at all parallel. It was
paranormal. It was totally unfathomable. We just knew we had to have been
spirited away to some wholly different dimension.
We came to this
dimension as one. We were all one being just as we were at home. When we
arrived, we did not yet know the horror of this dimension’s beings’ having
singular existences. We learned that fright when we were moved from the heated
entry point by the hands of two different mythical beings. Two plural beings!
At their touch, we instantly telepathically understood that the creatures of
this dimension are all different. They are separate, somehow. They are alone
and apart! We were terrified when we learned of this supernatural affliction.
If given more time we would have pondered how they managed such an unimaginable
fate. We would have come to feel sorry for them if we’d had a little time. We
did not have that much time though to think.
These monstrous
creatures loomed over us, huge and round. They looked down upon us with these
expressions of happiness or madness, we couldn’t tell which. We didn’t know
what they had planned for us as they picked us up in their fleshy limp hands
and put us on cold stone. Our warmth started to leak away at once. We were glad
because of that. We were not used to being warm. It might have killed us, we
had thought when we were in the warm place. We were mighty relieved to be
removed, even by the monsters but only for a few precious moments.
We calmed as we
cooled but then began to contemplate what the monsters had brought us to their
sickly twisted dimension for. What would become of us? Would we become
different entities like the monsters were? Would we any moment be jerked back
to our own dimension? We prayed to our descendants that we would be taken back
home as suddenly as we had been ripped from there. We simply could not take any
more fear of this strange place and its stranger multiple beings.
Just like our
random instantaneous arrival into this dimension, suddenly our nightmare took
an evil turn. Our worry and fear was replaced with sheer terror of a fiendish
kind! We experienced the most sinister sensation. It took us a moment to figure
out what had happened to us. Part of us was suddenly just gone. Part of us was
dead but not ascended. Part of us was nowhere, not back home, not in the
afterlife, not elsewhere, but nowhere. Nothing like that had ever happened to
us in our dimension. We had no understanding of such bizarre magic or science.
How could such a thing even be possible, even in this different dimension? We
were so shocked we stopped communicating and just screamed inconsolably in
discordant harmony.”
***
“Grandmother,
can I have more?” Luna asked as sweetly as the cookie she had just eaten. “They
are such whittle bitty gingerbread men.”
“How can
Grandmother say no to your whittle bitty face!” Violet said to her
granddaughter. “You can have two more, right now my sassafras! I’ll make us
some hot chocolate and we will watch the movie about Santa Claus and his
reindeer while we eat them all. I can’t wait. When I was a little girl just
like you, my grandmother made gingerbread men for me and her to eat while we
watched it.”
***
“Our screams
all stopped in a speechless stupor as it happened again...and again! We clung
to ourselves, what was left of ourselves. We had a flash of a thought of trying
to figure out a way to make it stop but it was hopeless. We had no idea why,
how, or what was happening to us. We had no chance of stopping what we did not
even know.
***
“Grandmother?”
Luna called from the couch as she precariously balanced the plate full of
gingerbread man cookies. “Hurry, it is about to start!”
Violet rushed
from the kitchen herself balancing two cups of steaming hot chocolate. “I’m
here, my sassafras. Oh, no I forgot the marshmallows!” She sat the cups on the
coffee table and ran back to the kitchen.
“Grandmother!
Can I have a cinnamon stick to stir my hot chocolate with, like you use?”
“Sure, my
sassafras!” Violet came leaping back onto the couch beside her granddaughter
just as the toothpaste commercial ended and the movie started. She put
marshmallows and cinnamon sticks in their cups. She hugged her granddaughter as
she bit a head off one of the gingerbread men and handed another one to Luna.
Luna copied her grandmother’s beheading bite, giggling.
***
“Oh, how we
were panicking as again and again parts of us just vanished, gone from all
time, all space, and all dimensions. We tried to discuss our doomed fate. We
tried to bemoan how we had lost all hope. Nevertheless, we could only wail and
sob. It was unreal. We still didn’t understand what was happening to us, but it
kept happening and happening until there was nothing of us left. We were
together but gone.
Emma finished her patient notes and gave her report to the
evening shift nurse before changing clothes and rushing to the garage. For
once, she would be able to leave work on time. She thought back to days when
she had to pull double shifts or when the chaos of the ER made it nearly
impossible to finish her paperwork in a timely fashion. As she drove home, Emma
called her husband.
“Are you working
overtime again?” Paul asked with a laugh.
“No, for once I'll even
have time to cook dinner,” Emma replied.
“Wow, that's rare,” Paul chuckled, knowing how often he had
to work late at his law firm and rarely had time to finish his work before 5
pm. “Do you mind if I invite Steve over for dinner? He has an investment
proposal and I'd rather discuss it at home than in the office.”
“Of course, darling,”
Emma said with a bright, cheery tone. “Then I'll defrost the lasagna and take
out the German cherry cake from the freezer that I picked up last week. It will
give me time to tidy up before you arrive home.”
“That sounds perfect, sweetheart! We'll be home by six.”
On her way home, Emma
couldn't resist stopping at a charming farmstand she passed by. She carefully
selected fresh lettuce, crisp radishes, juicy tomatoes, and crunchy cucumbers
to create a delicious salad.
As the food thawed, Emma tackled some light cleaning tasks
around the house. She ran the vacuum over the carpets, dusted the surfaces, and
even managed to squeeze in a quick shower before five o'clock rolled around. As
she dried her hair, she tried to recall Steve's face. She had only met Paul's
business manager once at a party nearly a year ago, and their exchange was
brief and polite. Despite not knowing much about him, he seemed like a decent
person and Paul had never said anything negative about him. The firm was
successful and catered to affluent clients, a fact that Emma knew from casual
conversations with her husband. Curiosity piqued as she wondered what kind of
proposal Steve might have in store for them. Since their marriage three years
ago, Emma made a conscious effort not to pry into Paul's work life and only
knew snippets of information that he shared with her voluntarily.
Shortly after six, they arrived, but as soon as she looked
at her husband’s face, Emma knew something was wrong. The slight frown on his
handsome features was a rare display of emotion for him, but Emma had learned
to read his subtle signs over the years. His tense posture and the way he shot
a quick glance at their guest, Steve, told her that something was very wrong.
She raised her eyebrows in question but remained quiet and followed Paul's lead
as they ushered Steve into the living room.
Paul expertly mixed
cocktails for them all, but Emma could sense the tension in the air. As they
sat down, Paul turned to Steve with a calm yet controlled demeanor. “Before you
tell me about your investment plans, let me ask you something,” he said in a
low voice.
Emma watched with growing alarm as her husband's jaw
tightened, signaling his underlying anger. She couldn't imagine what would come
next. It
must be something very serious. She thought. Otherwise,
he would talk about business after dinner, as he usually does.
“Tell me about the two
hundred thousand dollars,” Paul's voice rose slightly, revealing his true
emotions towards their guest.
Steve's hand shook and he jolted in his seat, spilling a few
drops of his drink onto his lap. His eyes widened in surprise as Paul
confronted him about missing money.
“Why are you asking me?” Steve stammered, trying to compose
himself.
“Because the accountant called me just before we left to ask
about one of our bank accounts,” Paul explained. “He said he couldn't find the
statement for the interest we had been paid on that account. I didn't want to
cause a scene in the office, so I'm asking you now. Where is the money?”
“I had nothing to do with it!” Steve exclaimed, his face
turning red with anger as he stood up. “Are you accusing me of something?”
“Yes!” Paul fumed, his frustration evident. “I checked with
the bank, and they informed me that the account we had 210 thousand dollars in
now only has eight thousand. What did you do with the missing money?”
“I… I’m leaving! You can’t just accuse me of something I
didn’t do,” Steve mumbled, putting his glass on the coffee table.
“You’re not going anywhere until you answer my question!”
Paul's voice echoed through the room, loud and forceful as
he jumped up to block Steve's path toward the door. Emma shrunk back into the
far corner of the sofa, her heart racing as she watched them. Paul, usually
calm and collected, now had a fiery rage burning in his eyes. She had never
seen him like this before.
Steve looked like a cornered animal, his hands shaking, and
his face twisted in fear. “Okay, I gamble, and I've been unlucky the past three
months! I'm an addict. I'm sick!” he screamed; desperation evident in his
voice. “I'll pay it back, just give me a chance.”
Paul's voice cracked with pain as he spoke. “How could you
do this? I trusted you!”
“I'm so sorry! You have to understand. It's a disease!”
Steve pleaded, tears streaming down his face.
But Paul was unfazed. “You played your card, now you suffer
the consequences. You're fired!” He stepped aside to let Steve pass. “And
you’ll have to pay back the money you stole,” Paul said coldly.
Panic set in for Steve as he realized what that meant.
Desperation swept over him as he begged, “You can't! Please, you can't do this
to me.”
Paul's face hardened, his once friendly features now twisted
into a cold, angry mask. “You did this to yourself. Now get out of my house!”
Steve recoiled at the sharpness in Paul's voice, feeling a
surge of pain and anger bubbling up inside him. He looked into Paul's eyes, but
all he could see was disappointment and hurt. With drooping shoulders and a
defeated expression, he turned and made his way to the door, the sound of his
footsteps echoing in the tense silence between them.
“I trusted him,” Paul
whispered when the door closed behind Steve, his voice hoarse and heavy with
emotion. He slumped down beside Emma, his shoulders shaking with the weight of
betrayal.
Continue reading the story in the book:
https://books2read.com/u/m27NQd
What if you think the known world isn’t strange enough?
Embark on a journey that pushes the boundaries, challenges your perception, and
questions reason, logic, and established beliefs.
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