Epilogue

Author’s Note: This is the end, but that doesn’t mean that cool little tidbits won’t be posted or that Sunset won’t make a reappearane.  Thank you so much for your support and to my brother, Pete, for his second pair of eyes, and for reading.

Two men sat playing chess. They were two old adversaries playing every day but never speaking to each other.

One was grizzled and wrinkled with skin as dark as night. He sat straight carrying a skinny but solid frame, arms covered in strange tattoos. The other was a bent old man who looked frail but had a strong fiery presence. He was bald, crown gleaming in unseen but perpetual sun his eyes under the perch of large black bushy eyebrows.

They played—sitting, planning, attacking, and defending. The bald white man captured the other’s knight, the piece’s eyes flaming a fiery red, with his rook and its sharp pointy crenellations putting him in a position to threaten the other’s king. After a moments consideration the black man used his own rook composed of tiny whirring machinery to block its counterpart’s advance. The bald one’s yellow eyes met the dark amber eyes of his opponent. He reached a smooth hairless hand and withdrew the rook back from its open exposed position. Then his hand hovered over his bishop, one of the most powerful creatures on the board, to protect his rook, and he laughed.

As there eyes met, their environment flickered. Not all at once but bits and pieces as if they all didn’t fit together perfectly. Disorder and chaos flashed under the flickers revealing the sham that had been created. They were not men, not anywhere close to it. The tattoos on the black man’s arms crawled slowly weaving their strange words and scripts around his forearms and biceps.

Aisha and Baybars stayed in Baltimore living in the same neighborhood as Lazarus. With a few phone calls to friends who owed him favors, he greased the wheels necessary to get Baybars residence in the country. This was a long arduous process made more difficult by the lack of papers from Baybars but was eventually successful. They chose to live together neither being able to return to any family that might be waiting for them; they had changed too much. They lived as brother and sister knowing that they protected each other in whatever reality they existed in. Aisha would not let Baybars enter the ether for fear of discovery, and she had little call to go there herself as Algharoob remained locked up.

Sometimes she would pass by her old house located in the richer neighborhood, but she never went in. It contained too much death and too many ghosts. Baybars spent the years until his death searching for his soul’s counterpoint trying everything he could think of short of going to the ether. The two always went each year without fail to a small cemetery in upper New York called Cherry Hill. They would visit the quiet place of decaying land and withered trees which guarded small eroded stones their writing faded by the inevitability of time’s touch to check up on the evil being under her watch. Every time they left the cemetery for home darkness would gather just a little thicker that night as if in anger.

Each year for ten years, they made the trip. Lazarus knew they went to New York, but not why and neither had told him. One crisp spring morning he was sitting on his small front porch, and his is piercing green eyes moved to the beeping cordless phone on the table. The old scar on his back, a relic from his first year on the force, twinged as it had every day as he reached for the phone. No one ever called him Sunday’s, so there was a feeling that something was wrong which would not go away, his detective’s intuition.

He answered his voice his voice raspy with age and too many cigarettes, “Trach here…Yea…no.”

The voice from the station told him that two had been found dead in a cemetery by an older couple paying their respects to their family plot. It was Aisha and Baybars several days decomposed. What was unusual was that the dirt in front of one of the gravestones had been disturbed, and someone had scratched the word ‘free’ violently into the weathered almost blank face of a headstone. He slammed down the phone after they told him it would be on the news that night at eleven.

“It was never over,” he thought.

The baby’s cry ripped through the cool air of the hospital room. A tired silent woman lay on bed sheets damp with sweat, barely seeing the beautiful little girl that she had brought into the world. A girl who’s soul was glazed with another’s. Though it would take very special circumstances for her to become aware of this greater portion of her being she started her life carrying a gem and a hidden name: Bisunum.

want some more vampire? check out my second completed online novel Blood of a Marionette.  think vampire lawyers…

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13 Comments

  1. Sequel! Please.

    And I liked that guy’s tattoos.

  2. more!

  3. gots around to finally reading the epi. bravisimo! you make me proud

  4. thanks, glad you liked it

  5. I wanted to read the entire story before I left any comments but I think it was very good. Suspense thoughout keeps the reader very intrigued. I hope you write many more novels, you have quite a future at it.

  6. thanks. i appreciate the feedback.

  7. your work is cool thank you very much but you supposed to make archives for those who cannot open the internet for along time

  8. thanks for the sugesstion mohammed. i will work on that.

    tim

  9. It was exceptionally good. Thank you so much for your effort and enthusiasm. I can see that you have a great future ahead of you. Keep it going bro! Take care aite..

    Regards,

    Nandini

  10. nandini-thanks for the compliments

  11. Breathtakin novel!Wish it could hav lasted longer.Kind of creepy how it ended in a”the darkness is still out there…” kind o way,expectin it 2 craw out from unda bed any sec now…but seriously thats a 10 right there, and o in 16 chaps!

  12. michelle-thanks. compliments like yours inspire me to keep writing because i know that at least somewhere out there in the world other people besides myself like to read what i write

  13. Great story! I was hooked the whole way through. I think you definately have a future in writing.


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