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You are tied to a very comfortable rolling chair. You are in a small
office, filled with office cliches. Framed pictures of smiling kids. A
small couch. A file cabinet with files on it. One of those thingies with a
name carved on fake wood. A fake plant. Several framed photos on the wall
seem to indicate this room was part of a winery.+ Light comes in from a powerful street lamp outside. You must have hit your head earlier. The priest was a priest. About thirtyfive. A twentiest blonde girl, much smaller, stands nearby. Something is familar about her. And also frightening. You don't like to look at her. "Then," intoned the man to the girl, "I sensed he was not of this reality. It seems to me that if we sacrifice him below the school, he will prop open the mouth to hell in such a way it will never be closed." You have no idea who these people are but what they are talking about cannot be good.
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12/26/2005 4:18:05 PM
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