Jul 2018
By Darcy Prince
“I’m standing out the front of the house of the reclusive author. As you can see in the background. Fans and other journalists have gathered. It has been close to tens years since he had left his enlarge block of land. Thomas, known for his Satanic themed novels and philosophical based essays is preparing to come out and talk about his forthcoming novel.” The journalist stand for a close to five seconds and his cameraman gave him the cut signal. And the journo relaxes and turns to the front of property. Hoping his had pass enough time.
So far, nothing. Just more a growing crowd. The fans range of age, no younger than sixteen and no older than sixty-five. Some hold books in hopes for an autograph, but they won’t get a chance for one. As for the media, they’ve spreaded out and close the local police force.
Mildew dropped over the overtone farming land. With an attached string anticipation sound. Anyone in the immediate sphere, stood and looked to the front door opening and a wave of hushing complete silence fell. And Thomas gestured a hello with both hands. Than a clap of appreciation took place. Despite a vast distance to the front door and the road. Only one young person jumped the fence and did their best to run to the front door. One police office tackled them.
Days later in New York, Thomas hopped off a private plane, supplied by the publishing company. A small team of people run to Thomas on the ground. He initially signed a copy of legal documents and his assistance took him by his shirt to exit out of the airport terminal. The weather lightened and provided some heat for the east coast. It’s been years since an author had turned out enough success to become a celebrity in a landscape slowly losing interest in any literary works. Outside in the public street, a limo waited for Thomas. Sitting inside, writing notes down and ignoring the business conversations held in the limo by the publishers and PR team. Molding boredom for Thomas.
Passing a few blocks. The city had took Thomas’s attention. Lifting his head towards the driver. “Driver!” The passengers stopped talking and the driver lifted his head, giving Thomas attention without taking his eyes off from the road. “Could you pull over.”
Leaning. “Thomas, we’re too busy to play tourist.” Thomas wanted to laugh at his assistance.
“Stacey, relax. We got two days before the book tour starts.” The limo pulled over and Thomas gave a polite nod to the publishers and PR. And before anyone else made an attempt to talk to him. Thomas made his exit.
Thomas stood outside a dogmatic alluring building, unveiled in dominance and aesthetic stealing from it’s neighbours. Thomas sighs as he let his shoulders down. Nodding his head and made his way inside. The description of build will show the uselessness of words. But it can cure bloodshot eyes, minor aches and provide meaning and fulfillment for one’s life.
Humanity can create their own hell. Despite what others might say.
Thomas waits in the leaders office, with the door opened. A group of children run by. The coldness of the room gave Thomas permission to smoke and the ashtray on the desk. Thomas smokes, wanting to sleep. His cellphone continues to alarm with every text sent. Noticing some of his works mixed in with others. Thoms shakes his head.
A hand clap at the door. “Tommy, I’m glad you’re here.”
Thomas smiles and opens his arms. “Teacher, it’s good to see.” They embrace. “I’m here for my book tour, it won’t start for a couple of days. I’m hoping we can catch up.”
“Of course. One of my successful students. I’m glad you stuck with the teachings.” The teacher replied.
The sun is almost setting and the residents of the city finish their daily chores. “It’s nice to be here, the city hasn’t changed, besides it’s people.”
“That’s because of people like us. The Devil never sleeps and still holds his greatest trick. He favors you.” Teacher finishes his bourbon, crossing his legs over. Thomas expresses a slight disbelief. “Really, he does. That’s why you coming book is already been praised without a single word been read by the public. Tell, what’s this one about?”
“Two lovers. I’ve been reading too much romance.” Thomas answers.
The teacher giggles under his breath and orders another couple of drinks. “True love is always neglected. Tell me, does in in suicide?”
“I’m standing out the front of the house of the reclusive author. As you can see in the background. Fans and other journalists have gathered. It has been close to tens years since he had left his enlarge block of land. Thomas, known for his Satanic themed novels and philosophical based essays is preparing to come out and talk about his forthcoming novel.” The journalist stand for a close to five seconds and his cameraman gave him the cut signal. And the journo relaxes and turns to the front of property. Hoping his had pass enough time.
So far, nothing. Just more a growing crowd. The fans range of age, no younger than sixteen and no older than sixty-five. Some hold books in hopes for an autograph, but they won’t get a chance for one. As for the media, they’ve spreaded out and close the local police force.
Mildew dropped over the overtone farming land. With an attached string anticipation sound. Anyone in the immediate sphere, stood and looked to the front door opening and a wave of hushing complete silence fell. And Thomas gestured a hello with both hands. Than a clap of appreciation took place. Despite a vast distance to the front door and the road. Only one young person jumped the fence and did their best to run to the front door. One police office tackled them.
Days later in New York, Thomas hopped off a private plane, supplied by the publishing company. A small team of people run to Thomas on the ground. He initially signed a copy of legal documents and his assistance took him by his shirt to exit out of the airport terminal. The weather lightened and provided some heat for the east coast. It’s been years since an author had turned out enough success to become a celebrity in a landscape slowly losing interest in any literary works. Outside in the public street, a limo waited for Thomas. Sitting inside, writing notes down and ignoring the business conversations held in the limo by the publishers and PR team. Molding boredom for Thomas.
Passing a few blocks. The city had took Thomas’s attention. Lifting his head towards the driver. “Driver!” The passengers stopped talking and the driver lifted his head, giving Thomas attention without taking his eyes off from the road. “Could you pull over.”
Leaning. “Thomas, we’re too busy to play tourist.” Thomas wanted to laugh at his assistance.
“Stacey, relax. We got two days before the book tour starts.” The limo pulled over and Thomas gave a polite nod to the publishers and PR. And before anyone else made an attempt to talk to him. Thomas made his exit.
Thomas stood outside a dogmatic alluring building, unveiled in dominance and aesthetic stealing from it’s neighbours. Thomas sighs as he let his shoulders down. Nodding his head and made his way inside. The description of build will show the uselessness of words. But it can cure bloodshot eyes, minor aches and provide meaning and fulfillment for one’s life.
Humanity can create their own hell. Despite what others might say.
Thomas waits in the leaders office, with the door opened. A group of children run by. The coldness of the room gave Thomas permission to smoke and the ashtray on the desk. Thomas smokes, wanting to sleep. His cellphone continues to alarm with every text sent. Noticing some of his works mixed in with others. Thoms shakes his head.
A hand clap at the door. “Tommy, I’m glad you’re here.”
Thomas smiles and opens his arms. “Teacher, it’s good to see.” They embrace. “I’m here for my book tour, it won’t start for a couple of days. I’m hoping we can catch up.”
“Of course. One of my successful students. I’m glad you stuck with the teachings.” The teacher replied.
The sun is almost setting and the residents of the city finish their daily chores. “It’s nice to be here, the city hasn’t changed, besides it’s people.”
“That’s because of people like us. The Devil never sleeps and still holds his greatest trick. He favors you.” Teacher finishes his bourbon, crossing his legs over. Thomas expresses a slight disbelief. “Really, he does. That’s why you coming book is already been praised without a single word been read by the public. Tell, what’s this one about?”
“Two lovers. I’ve been reading too much romance.” Thomas answers.
The teacher giggles under his breath and orders another couple of drinks. “True love is always neglected. Tell me, does in in suicide?”
