View Full Version : WIP - A Gothic Tale of Sort

May 10th, 2005, 01:34 PM
This is my lil story that I'm working on whenever I have the time. I dont have a complete idea of where I'm going with it yet. I just let my Muse guide me. Would appriciate any critiques or ideas. Just one note - I definitly might have spelling/grammer mistakes *foreigner here*, and being that my "Word" sucks and has no spellcheck, please excuse any that you may spot.

I will add and edit as I progress.

Enjoy :)


Sitting across from him, by the large dinner table inside our dim dining hall, lit only by a few large candles, I stare into his eyes with anger and disdain. His sharp blue eyes pierce into mine. I have known him well. Too well. The pupils in his eyes grew with darkness as the wonderful soft ocean blue shade turned moss green, then a sickly yellow. I could see his dark blue veins shine beneath his pale skin, around the side of his neck and cheeks. I was not frightened of his wrath anymore. He knew this. It only enraged him more. He had lost his grip on my mind and soul. I was growing weary of him. We were growing apart slowly, but surely. A black hole created by a Pandora box holding nightmarish secrets and truths was firmly placed between us. I could not bare it any longer. And he knew this.

So here I am. Sitting across from him, watching his anger grow and with it mine. For as long as I’ve known him, it was obvious to me that he has never stumbled upon such a stubborn young woman as I. I did not surrender to his needs and words so quickly. I was not a conquest and a battle so easily won. I think this is what attracted him to me the most. I was different and most certainly not an ordinary woman. I wasn’t like the young virginal naïve girls he enjoyed devouring upon before he met me. I was not mesmerised by his deep dark voice and his gazing soft eyes. At least not in the beginning, not so quickly as he has been accustomed to anyways. Sometimes I wonder if he bothered so much with me just to prove a point. I was a challenge no doubt. I was a challenge to anyone who has ever met me – From my parents and family, to my friends, to my lovers. I was the black sheep, the oddball, the teacher’s pet. The person everyone loves to hate.

Yet he did not hate me.


A few years back I had just arrived to Ireland. I was still new to everything and everyone. A young girl, in her early 20s from Eastern Europe. You could see I was a foreigner. Dark brown wavey hair held back neatly in a pony tail, a light olive skin complextion and brown eyes. Very much the opposite of the fair skinned, light haired Irish folk. I have gotten quite a bit of attention for my physical apperance and Eastern European accent. Yet wherever I walked, I felt like a ghost wandering throughout the green hills and the marshalls of Ireland. All I had were the clothes and my personal belongings held inside the large red backpack I carried. I had no real destination, no real goal. When I left my home all I knew was that I had to leave. I took all my savings out of the bank, booked the next flight to Ireland - The country I have dreamed of seeing since I was a little girl - Got on the plane and left. Never looking back. There was nothing left for me at home. Not even the wonderful fauna and flora of the Carpathian mountains could ever sway me from my decision.

It was a gray cloudy day, when I met Kelly. I had found a little motel at the outskirts of a small villiage I’ve stumbled upon through my backpacking trip, in rural Ireland. The hostess of the motel was a lovely lady indeed. She was a tall, well built woman. She had aging red hair, wore a short sleeve dress with prints of green and pink and yellow flowers, and a white apron on top of it.

“Well, what a beautiful lass you are!” She exclaimed as I walked into the motel and towards the desk where she was standing.

“Thank you” I blushed and smiled, “Do you happen to have any vacancies?”

“Why yes, yes we do!” She smiled, “How long will you be staying, dear?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll pay for two nights right now though.” I replied.

“As you wish!” She said, “Let me show you your room, and you can get settled first. We will talk about payment later.” She gestured me to follow her and walked towards the stairs.

“Thanks so much, I appriciate it” I smiled and followed her.

The people here were amazing. So warm and sweet, so trusting and welcoming. It wasn’t so back home. I wasn’t used to people being so nice to me. Much less strangers or business people. As I followed the woman, the stairs creeked while we stepped on them. I enjoyed the smell of the old wooden walls the large motel was made of. It was not a modern house, as most motels are these days. It was an old house which has certainly witnessed history. A huge handmade cloth describing the detailed map of Ireland was hung in the hallway we reached to on the third floor. At the corner by it, a small brown end table stood holding a clear vase with fresh heathers on top of it.

“Here we go!” My hostess cheered, “This will be your room!”

I walked into the room and put my backpack on the floor, then turned around towards her.

“Here” She handed me the keys, “We serve a light breakfast at 8 in the morning untill 10. If you have any questions regarding this area of Ireland, you are more than welcome to ask!” She smiled.

“Again, thank you so much!” I smiled back and watched her as she walked back downstairs.

I turned around and walked back into my room, then shut and locked the door behind me. I looked around. It was a plain room. The walls were a cream color with a pink roses tapstry glued onto the top of the walls, all around the room. There was a medium sized light brown dresser with three large drawers and on top of it a white vase holding heathers, much like the ones in the hallway. Across from it there stood a large closet, same color as the dresser. A full size bed was standing in the middle of the room, covered with white sheets and a cream colored blanket to match the walls. By it stood a small night table with a small lamp on top. A big window facing the east exposed amazing green hills that streched for miles to no end. Seeing the green hills of Ireland took my breath away every single time. It’s a sort of shade of green you only see here. No where else on earth will you find such magnificant green that sooths the eyes and tickles your imagination of heroic histories these hills have seen over thousends of years.
I didn’t waste much time. I changed my clothes from the black shorts I was wearing to long baggy jeans. I decided to keep wearing the maroon tank top that was already on me. I changed my brown sandles into my hiking boots as well. Then I grabbed a small bag out of the backpack, and put my camera, wallet and the room’s keys in it. I made sure I had everything I needed, and left.

The graveyard in this little villiage is one of the oldest in Ireland. I have always enjoyed walking around old graveyards. The spirits that wander around tell the tales of unknown persons and unknown lands. They speak of tragedies, lost lovers and betryal. My family did not appriciate this hobby of mine. They said that only the mentally deranged go around parading in graveyards and taking photos of the marvelous statues and gravestones that whisper silent truths. I’ve always found that you can tell so much about a person and their life from observing their gravestone and its surrounding.

I started walking around the graveyard as the sun almost disappeared and Nox rode across the skies covering them with her dark cloak and mists. I looked around, fascinated with the sights I was seeing. I took picture after picture, changing positions and angles. Running around, attempting to capture every detail. When I ran out of film, I put the camera back in my bag and smiled.

“Tomorrow I’ll have them developed!” I thought to myself, content with my productive evening.

I decided to walk around the place a bit longer. It was a rather large graveyard, unusually large for an old cemetary like this. But I did not think of it much and decided to explore it a bit more. There was a certain peace to it. Peace I could not sense anywhere else. As I was walking further, I saw a large statue of a sylph holding a broken heart in her palms. Her face was grim and full of sorrow. Her eyes were looking down at the broken pieced she was holding. I stood there, mesmerised by her for a moment, then I looked down at the gravestone and read:

“Fiona McCain
Loving Wife
May She Rest In Peace”

“Lovely Statue, isnt it?” A deep voice came from behind me.

I jumped at the sound of it, and turned around, raising my fists up. Ready to take on whoever this lurker was. Out of the shadows a tall slim man walked towards me. His hands were resting behind his back, and he approached slowly and peacefully towards me, as if he weren’t afraid of my sudden defensive pose. As the full moon shone on his figure, I saw his face. Pale skin, and wide jaws giving his face a square like shape. Thin dark red lips, and a slender nose that fit his face perfectly. Long straight black hair rolled down and rested on his shoulders. His eyes open wide, possesing a shade of blue I have only found in the deep waters of the Black Sea.

“Please, don’t be frightened.” He said softly, “I’m sorry if I startled you”.

I slowly put my hands down and relaxed. He was wearing a simple black suit, and black boots. He then moved towards me, and smiled, then bended over and exposed a fresh red rose in his right hand. He placed it on the grave and then stood up again.

“I apologize if I’ve disturbed you, sir” I said quietly, “I will leave now.”

“Oh that is quite allright, please do not leave on the account of me!” He replied, “Please, its not often that I find people walking around at this time of night out here.”

“Well” I smiled softly, “It’s a hobby. Not many people understand it. I take pictures of cemeteries. There’s things I find that I can capture in graveyards that I cannot capture through the camera in any other place”.

“I agree” He smiled, “Cemeteries have a certain peace to them don’t they?”

“Yes! That is exactly what I think!” I exclaimed, happy I finally found someone who understands me.

He smiled at me, and as he did so, I couldn’t help but blush. He had a certain spark in his eyes and charm that I could not pin point, yet it has obviously struck a chord with me. He gestured for me to join him in walking back towards the maw of the cemetery. I smiled back and noded.

“So tell me, where are you from?” He asked as we were walking slowly one besides the other.

“Oh, I’m from Eastern Europe. Romania to be exact.” I replied.

“Ahhh, Romania. My ancestors come from Brasov”

“Brasov?” I asked, “My villiage is about 15 minutes west of Brasov!”

“Is it? Well, then, it is an honor for me to meet a fellow Brasov native!” He exclaimed.

We kept walking, making small talk. I told him about my flight and of my not so planned plans here in Ireland. He insisted on walking me back to my motel, and I agreed. When we reached the entrance he bowed to me and asked if he might be able to meet me the following night. I hesitated about it. I wasn’t so trusting of men due to my experience with them in the past. However, something about him intrigued me. Little did I know that agreeing to his courteous invitation would have a permanent effect on my life.


He waited outside the motel, the next night. I wondered why he did not enter and wait inside, but I did not feel comfortable questioning him about it.

I walked outside, wearing the black silk dress I had gotten for my 22nd birthday from my aunt. It was sleeveless, with a V-neck, and ran down just above my knees, and simple black high heals to go with it. I smiled at him when I saw him, I don’t know where that smile came from, it just popped on my face unexpectedly. There was a familiarity to him that I could not pin point, it just felt right to smile at him. And he returned the same big warm smile.

He wore black leather pants, a dark blue short sleeve shirt and a black tie.

“Black silk?” He asked, “My favourite, how did you know?”

“Wild guess!” I laughed.

He then pointed at the large limosine that was parked across. I was at awe. He saw my surprise and took my hand gently then led me towards the car. Up to that point I have never been inside a limosine. I was excited and shocked to see that this man I so randomly met at the local graveyard was someone well endowed enough to own his very own limosine.

Inside, the seats were covered with gray leather, classical music was playing and a long stemed red rose with a red bow tied around it waited. As we got into the limosine, he picked up the rose and handed it to me.

“For you.” He said softly. I blushed and took the rose from his hand. The rose was obviously fresh cut, its sweet scent filled the car.

“Thank you” I replied, as the car began driving off, “By the way, you never told me your name the other night.”

“Oh, I didn’t?” He asked, “Well, I am Kelly, and I am afraid I was so rude as to not inquire you for YOUR name, last night as well.”

“Its quite allright! I am Stella.” I said.

“Stella, a star. Seems to fit you perfectly” He replied while gazing into my eyes.

Those eyes. There was something fascinating about them. They spoke of unknown stories of distant lands and secrets untold. He was hiding a lot behind those deep blue eyes. Suddenly, a burst of energy grew within me, urging me to find out those secrets.

I often wonder if I had made a mistake when I had resolved to make his story my own.

He took me to this quiet little local resturant. He has reserved a special table, in the left corner, lit by a few candles. There was a bottle of red wine waiting for us when we had arrived. He pulled out the chair for me and gestured for me to sit down. Such a fine gentleman. I looked around. It seemed like an old place, made of dark wood. A sort of a large ancient cabin. Old paintings of Irish scenery were hanging on the walls, they seemed to have brighten up the gloomy place. It was indeed gloomy, yet was filled with mystery and a sort of romantic atmosphere. There were a few people seated in the tables scattered around. Couples, mostly. And few people seated alone in their table. One was reading, the other was just sitting there, eating as if he was used to eating alone every night. In the background, soft Irish traditional music was playing. I have always loved Irish Traditional Folk Music. I adored the cheerful upbeats it possesed, though the music playing in the resturant had a more mellow tone to it. It sounded like a lament of sort.

We dined and drank and talked about everything. Time seemed to pass by swiftly when I was with him. His bright eyes glowing with excitement as he told me about his childhood in Dublin, his studies of the Artes Liberales, his rich and very influencial family, the mischief he and his friends would stirr up. I was taken back in time along with his words to his old secure and peaceful world, full of laughter and happiness. I could only dream of speaking with such love and longing about my own past.

I was a bit reluctant to speak when he asked me about my own past.

“Well” He said, after seeing my hesitation, “You do not have to tell me anything if you do not want to, Stella”.

“No, it’s not that I don’t want to tell you. I just… I don’t like talking about my past. It is certainly not as wonderful as yours, I rarely go back there and I wouldn’t want to ruin the wonderful time we are having!” I replied.

He took my hand and held it softly. It was then when I suddenly noticed his nails – Rather sharp and pointy for a man. I was staring down at them, wondering, yet his voice broke the silence and I looked up at him, he stared right into my eyes.

“I would like you to come back to my home with me” He smiled.

“Oh, no. I mean, I did have a great time with you, its just that…”

“No, No!” He cut me off, laughing, “No, I will be a perfect gentleman, I promise. But I do have a surprise for you. I think you would enjoy it!”

“What kind of surprise?” I asked him and raised my eyebrow.

“You will have to wait and see!” He grinned.

I hesitated at first. We seemed to have wonderful chemisty, and I picked up on good soothing positive vibes from him. I could usually tell an ill mannered person, from a person with genuine good intentions. He was not out to harm me. I was debating for a moment. Should I allow him to take me to his home? We did have a nice evening, and I have learned quite a bit about him, but he is still – A stranger. My gut said otherwise. I had nothing better to do back at the lonely room in the hotel. And I was, as always, out to seek some sort of adventure. Kelly sure was a sort of mysterious challenge I could not get enough of.

“Allright, I trust you. Lets go.” I smiled at him.

He looked back at me with a joyful expression on his face, stood up and offered to help me up as well. He then took my hand, held it tight and walked with me towards the exist. While we were stepping out I noticed him eyeing the dark haired hostess standing by the main door of the resturant. She nodded back at him, then glanced at me and grinned.


As the limosine pulled into the large stone paved driveway, I was at awe. Kelly, apperantly, had quite a large house. His home, seemed more like a manor than a “simple house” as he put it. The limosine came to a full stop, and a buttler, who was waiting for our arrival proceeded to open the door and help me out. He smiled at me and spoke a few short words of welcome. He was a short man, at his 50’s no doubt. Gray balding hair and a mustache framed his face and head. His hand, which reached for mine as I stood up, was ice cold.

Large trimmed flora of all sorts and colors decorated the entrence to his home, and two tall marble sylphs were standing on each side of the arch shaped oak main door. I was looking up at them, examining their poise, as Kelly stepped out of the limosine and said something to the buttler. The expressions the figures held on their faces was that of sadness and alert. One was looking up at the skies, her mouth slightly open. She was holding a book in her left hand. Her right hand raised upwards, in a sort of frustrated gesture, as if she was inquiring the Gods above of her dark fate. The other, holding a single rose in her hands, looking down at it, with tears on her cheeks. Both were naked and baring perfect round hour glass bodies.

The manor itself, overlooking the driveway seemed gloomy. It seemed to have been built to fit the Gothic Architecture of the Middle Ages. Similar to that of the Old European Cathedrals. Tall windows, tall pointy arches, large bone like pillars supporting the sides of the building. But this building was much larger than the usual Cathedrals. Wider and taller. It had a richer more lively texture, not completely deathly and frightning as the Gothic Architecture was made to be.

“Shall we?” Kelly’s voice pierced through my thoughts. I looked at him and smiled.

“You have a beautiful house!”

“Thank you! My great grandfather built it. He adored the Gothic Architecture of Europe.”

“I noticed!” I laughed, “It is indeed amazing, he has done an amazing job!”

“He would have been flattered to hear such compliments from such a beautiful woman” He said softly.

I blushed.

We walked inside, and again I was in shock and awe. He had told me that his family was rich and influencial, but I did not grasp just how rich and well endowed. Marble stairs and floors, a large central thick wooden stairwell leading up to the top floors, colorful tapestries covering the walls, huge gold chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, art, statues, antique furniture.

He was amused with the astonished look I had firm on my face.

“Come” He said, and took my hand again, “There is more!” He laughed.

He led me through the main hall of the house, covered with old portraits of men and women. Faces staring out through the paintings – Some serious, some sad, some blank with barely any emotional expressions. Just blank, as if they had nothing to tell, no story to share, no tale to talk of. I wondered if these were his family members and ancestors. Each piece seemed to be part of a different era. Various clothings, styles and fashions. But they all had one thing in common – The deep blue eyes. Same as Kelly’s. Eyes that held many secrets. Something in my gut told me these were not happy secrets. I made a note in my mind to come back and ask Kelly about these paintings later on.

“Do you like music?” He suddenly asked, watching me as we paced forward, browsing through the portraits.

“Yes. Actually, music is one of my passions” I smiled at him.

“I knew it!” He exclaimed as we reached a large maw made of two equally sized arched mahogany doors, “Then, you shall love my surprise!” he turned the two knobs pushed both doors forward, and these swang wide open.

“Welcome, Stella, to my music room!” He called, and paced in with his hands swinging at his sides, pointing around as if directing my eyes their way around.

I paced inside and saw a vision I have never seen before. Colorfull walls filled with compact disks of all genres from all eras on the Northern and Eastern sides of the room. To the West, a large display closet holding old records from the 60’s and 70’s, and next to it an old record player. As I walked in, to my left I saw a big fancy stereo with 2 large speakers. I looked up and saw 4 more speakers hanging at all 4 corners of the ceiling. In the Center, a Black Baby Grand Piano stood, with a small bench standing next to it aligned perfectly as if waiting for a pianist to sit down and play. Across there stood an old wooden harp, almost as tall as myself, and a Cello next to it. On a medium brown Dresser was a tall stack of various music sheets as well as a black violin case.

My mouth dropped as I looked around, and I could feel his auspicious gaze upon my face. I quickly walked towards the piano – Of course it would be the first thing I’d walk towards. I let my hands run over the glistening black wood and smiled. It had reminded me of my childhood. Back when things were good, when I loved being home with my parents. The days where my grandmother and I would sit at her piano and she would teach me various melodies and harmonies which later I would proudly perform to the family.

“A Baby Grand” I said softly, “I’ve always dreamed of owning one”

“I know” He whispered in my ear.

I was startled. I never noticed he had followed me and positioned himself so closely to me. He saw my surprise and quickly grabbed my hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, its quite allright” I smiled and looked down. He stared into my eyes, and to a point, that has somehow made me uncomfortable though I enjoyed the fact that he clearly had a sort of infatuation with me. He held my fingers at the palm of his left hand, and ran his right hand’s fingers across mine own, “You are a piano player, are you not?”

“Yes.. Well, not anymore. I mean, I had played for about ten years back when I was younger, but it has been over 5 years since I have touched a piano.”

“Tell me, Stella, what is your favourite classical music piece?”

I looked again into his eyes. We stood there for a moment, just staring in each other’s eyes, again, like we have several times before. This time, my heart skipped a beat, but I had kept a calm and cool expression on my face. I did not enjoy letting others in on my true inner feelings. I have learned long ago not to trust others with my emotions, much less my heart.

“The Moonlight Sonata” I whispered.

“Beethoven.” He smiled then turned around and sat down at the piano bench. He gestured for me to sit next to him and so I did.

He leaned over towards, “For you” he whispered into my left ear.

Then, he started playing.

May 13th, 2005, 02:55 PM
His fingers danced on the piano keys, touching, caressing them slowly as Beethoven’s melody embraced the entire music room. He shut his eyes, never looking down at the keys, he played as if he was used to playing the Sonata all his life. The low and grim voices of the piano took my breath away with each stroke and beat. Kelly’s hands glided over the piano chords like the wind gliding over the waves of the deep atlantic, softly but forcibly and at the right tone. He seemed to be lost in the music, yet still in paragon control of the piano. I was hypnotized by the mixture of the music, emotions and with the sight of Kelly himself being taken away by his own creation and talent.

I gazed at his pallor hands as he played, his sharp nails did not seem to make it too difficult for him to hit the piano keys perfectly. Then I slowly ran my eyes up towards his arms, which seemed muscular and lean. His neck, wide and tempting with his long black hair resting perfectly on his shoulders. His lips were sealed tight, but he was slightly smiling, as if enjoying and devouring every single moment.

As the melody intensified, so did he. His body, his soul – He put them all into the music. At this point I could do nothing but admire him for his talent and his love. I was enthralled with him, and the music seemed to drown me even deeper into my thoughts and emotions, which now became greater by the minute.

When he reached the end of the Sonata, he played the final keys and then slowly let the music echo through the room as it faded away. He slowly opened his eyes only when the music completely died out. Then turning his head towards me he smiled.

“How was that?” He asked.

“Absolutely enchanting!” I smiled back at him.

His smile grew with victory. My smile grew with his and our eyes were locked for a moment together, our heads slowly leaning towards each other, my lips feeling a magnetic force pulling in on his. A sudden moment of self conscience creeped up on me, so I broke away from his eyes and looked around. Then got up and walked towards the endless rows of compact disks sitting on the wall. I browsed through them quickly and was extremely happy to find some of my favourite artists in his collection.

“Theatre of Tragedy!” I exclaimed and looked at him.

“But only their earlier albums!” He said as I spoke the exact same words as well.

We laughed.

He then quickly played the intro to one of their best songs, which I adored.

“Sweet Art Thou” He called loudly, his voice mixing with the piano’s.

“Oh, youre being a goof!” I called back and laughed loudly, as I kept looking through the albums.

He stopped playing and laughed with me. Then he quickly stood up and paced towards me.

“Me? A goof?”

“Yes you!” I smiled.

He laughed again and watched as I kept looking and occasionally pulling out an album and examining it.

“I see you don’t really have any mainstream artists on here” I said while still browsing around.

“You are right. I only go for the more independent underground sort of bands.” He replied, following me.

“You have my approval on your Metal music selection” I looked at him and winked.

He smiled in return.

“Well, as long as I have your approval”.

The doors to the room suddenly flung open. A tall, wide shouldered blonde man, not older than 30 entered.

“Sir, forgive me, but you have an important phone call” he bowed his head with obeisance.

“Can’t it wait?” Kelly inquired with a rough tone to his voice.

“My sir, unfortunately, it cannot” he replied as he espied my way.

“Very well” Kelly said. He then turned to me and said, “Stella, please forgive me, I have serious business to attend do. Apperantly this is some sort of emergancy that cannot be withheld.”

“Oh its completely fine” I said, this time it was I who took his hand in mine, “It is late anyways, I better get back to my motel.”

He clenched my hand back softly, “Allow me to escort you outside, my limosine will take you back to your motel safely”.

I followed him back towards the great mysterious hall where the fascinating portraits were hanging. I desperately wanted to ask him about their origin and nature, but the look on his face was serious and it seemed that his mind was now at a completely different place, so I decided not to burden him with my own silly questions. And though he seemed to have wandered off far away, he still held my hand firmly, never letting go.

We reached the main entrence to the house again, and as we walked out towards the limosine, I glanced at the two sylphs standing there which I examined earlier that night. We stopped by the limosine, where the driver was waiting with the door open for me to enter the car. Kelly eyed him and the driver nodded, turned around and got into the driver’s seat.

“Thank you for a wonderful night, Stella, I hope you enjoyed it.” He said softly.
“I did, Kelly, and thank you for having me over. I enjoyed your surprise very much.” I replied smiling.

“Good, very good.” He took my hand and kissed it, “Have a good night, sweet dreams”.

I took one last look into his eyes, and then got into the limosine. He shut the door behind me and tapped the back of the car twice, letting the driver know he could leave. As the car pulled out, I took one last look at Kelly. He had turned around and made his way back into the house. As the car almost completely made its way out of the gates of the manor, I saw the doors shut behind him.

May 30th, 2005, 05:56 AM
Wow. You have me entranced. You're quite the writer.


May 30th, 2005, 02:03 PM
Thanks so much :D

I appriciate it so much! Thanks for taking the time to read this. It means a lot!


May 30th, 2005, 09:17 PM
No problem. It was worth it. Great stuff!


June 30th, 2005, 01:38 AM
_handclapp _handclapp _handclapp _handclapp

June 30th, 2005, 08:50 AM
_handclapp _handclapp _handclapp _handclapp

Hee Hee Hee!
Thanks :D

I still got lots of work to do on it though...

November 5th, 2005, 01:37 PM
that was great - it pulled me right into the story and made me wonder what would happen. marvelous.

November 6th, 2005, 11:41 AM
Morr that was so wonderful to read. I'm wanting more. Oh my, I kept wondering is he a vampire? Will he bite her? Will she give in to him? Heck I hope so. Lol.
You have a great flow to the dialoge which is something I find rather difficult to get just right. Yours seems natural and well done.
Great job on the story. Give us some more.

November 15th, 2005, 09:37 PM
That's very cool Morr, I'm liking it. Looking forward to reading more when you get around to it :).