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The clock was still ticking away..
His ears ringing off with now a less accurate picture..
Staring at his old typewriter, pulling forward and reaching at his bottled whiskey, sliding a glass ahead as he could then see the cuts on his knuckles.
"I am getting too old for this.."
Swigging down the final drink he deserved, taking out his phone, replacing the sim card and tracking it along the guide, a script to go off with no ending.
As he dialed a few numbers, reaching at the bottom drawer and taking out a box of matches.
The phone began to ring..
-"Hello?"-
He held his breath for a moment, his lips quivering at the time. Her voice was still so soft over the phone, this, still being the only way he could see her.
-"Arthur.. I know it's you.. I've been praying.. Please.. I need you back."-
He kept his tongue, not uttering a breath until she understood the consequences.
-"I know you must be broken by her doing.. but I know you have good word for calling me.. Arthur.."-
He shut his eyes tight, fading back.
"She must know.. this has gone on for far too long.."
"...I have your desired kin.. She-..."
The tone dropped to a stern point, her breathing slow, -"I know.. but it doesn't matter.. I will accept that, even though it's not by our doing.."-
He was stuck again on his words and faded emotions.
-"Arthur... come home.. to me. Please, bring our kin home.."-
His mind wonders down the earth's surface with ease, flying low worthwhile, he repeated the times in his head and knew it would end with confusion, stress and hatred.
He made another decision.
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"...The time has come.. I fear I'm running out... But, he can be retained.. My heart will always belong to you.."
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Pressing the red button of the dials, dressing his hidden wounds with a high level of stoicism. Sitting back in his chair with the first time of magic in mind.
Breaking the sim card and dumping it into the bin, along with the required evidence. Photos, odds and ends, placing it down and adding kerosene to the pit of history. Flicking a match down, sticking it against the box.
He tossed his final six into the trash and watched as it went up.
"I need to get a message to her.."
Adjusting his topline, pushing the glass aside and resting his arms against the wooden desk, it begins to go stale.
The preservative wearing out.
He typed out the letter and began to indulge himself to his true emotions, the only ones that she herself could unlock and achieve, but with Evan's help, they could thrive off of it.
He began typing. . .
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VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
The Golden Mile
Mistério / SuspenseYou may recognise some more than others. Starting off with only a fickle memory and threats wanting to pry away at his mind, trying to get him to remember what they are fighting for. Within the late hours of his remembrance, resting broken minded, s...
