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The Master and His Nursemaid
Chapter 1.A
Wounded Sparrow
It was a dreary September morning. The mist masked the road making it almost impossible to see the road beyond 2 to 3 miles as he drove his motor cycle.
The roar of his motorcycle echoed as he drove on. Scaring a passing armadillo in its wake. It seemed like he was driving on forever. 10 miles? 100 miles? It didn’t matter. He had an end goal to reach. The haunting image of a girl drove him on.
He remembered. It was A. He remembered that day he left her behind. One last glance before he walked out the door. Her long auburn hair hiding her tears as she cried “Don't go..” in that sad dreary apartment. He left to seek fortune.
He left to live a dissolute life. He sought and received both. Yet as he wallowed in pleasure and his pockets grew heavy with cash it all seemed hallow and meaningless. Every woman he bedded simply did not compare to A.
She haunted him. Every time he bedded a woman no matter how beautiful A always crept into his thoughts. Thoughts of him and her in the ultimate act of bliss tainted the moment. He tried for a year to forget her yet no matter how deep he wallowed in depravity he could not. It was simply impossible. She was an apparition that refused to leave him. No matter how annoyed he can get with her she always haunted hin.
So he set out on his quest. He started with looking for her in the old apartment complex he last remembered her to be at. That was 7 days ago.
He remembered pulling up to a street filled to the brim with people. All of them are staring him suspiciously and music was thumping in the background. Groups of rough looking youth congregating at the footsteps. Children obviously playing in the street blissfully unaware of their decrepit surrounds. Scattered in the mix an occasional group of women either gossiping or bemoaning todays newest struggle. All in all it was a very low class neighborhood. He regarded them as unimportant yet kept his bag at his side none the less. He parked his bike at the front of an old decrepit building. The paint of it was a faded grey hidden underneath a coat of dirt and grime. It was a essentially a time capsule. A long expired artifact from the era of the war on poverty. Long forgotten and neglected. He remembered exactly why he hated this place. He climbed the stairs. Apartment 107 was what he was looking for. Yet he only found a shocking image.
Step by step his heart sank. He sensed she wasn’t there instead lay a horrid sight. His heart thunder as he looked at the door.
The door was sealed up with police tape. Splatters of long dried up blood gave the door a rusty hue. He glanced in the window what he can make out in the darkness was a deep crusty pool of red. Rusty red. A dark brown red like an insignia of fate. Laying on the floor. His heart sank as panic set in. Then he noticed two children running past him breaking his concentration. Their cries of joy seemed out of place in such a dismal area. Behind them followed a teenage girl in braids.
“Wait!” she cried flustered puffing out breaths “Mom said you can’t go to the corner store with out me.”
So intent she was on her task she didn’t notice the man's bag.
She almost slipped but he caught her. Her eyes widened as she realized he caught her by the hood of her jacket.
She blinked for a second as gently he pulled her back up. He stared studying the girl. The children paused and stared back at the man. The air was tense. He didn’t know what to say. Then finally the girl broke the silence.
“Thank you, sir.” The girl spoke in a country drawl. She recomposed herself and was about to leave but then the man stopped her.
“Can you tell me what happened here?” Asked the man as he pointed to the sealed and blood stained door.
“Are you a reporter?” Inquired the...
Wounded Sparrow
It was a dreary September morning. The mist masked the road making it almost impossible to see the road beyond 2 to 3 miles as he drove his motor cycle.
The roar of his motorcycle echoed as he drove on. Scaring a passing armadillo in its wake. It seemed like he was driving on forever. 10 miles? 100 miles? It didn’t matter. He had an end goal to reach. The haunting image of a girl drove him on.
He remembered. It was A. He remembered that day he left her behind. One last glance before he walked out the door. Her long auburn hair hiding her tears as she cried “Don't go..” in that sad dreary apartment. He left to seek fortune.
He left to live a dissolute life. He sought and received both. Yet as he wallowed in pleasure and his pockets grew heavy with cash it all seemed hallow and meaningless. Every woman he bedded simply did not compare to A.
She haunted him. Every time he bedded a woman no matter how beautiful A always crept into his thoughts. Thoughts of him and her in the ultimate act of bliss tainted the moment. He tried for a year to forget her yet no matter how deep he wallowed in depravity he could not. It was simply impossible. She was an apparition that refused to leave him. No matter how annoyed he can get with her she always haunted hin.
So he set out on his quest. He started with looking for her in the old apartment complex he last remembered her to be at. That was 7 days ago.
He remembered pulling up to a street filled to the brim with people. All of them are staring him suspiciously and music was thumping in the background. Groups of rough looking youth congregating at the footsteps. Children obviously playing in the street blissfully unaware of their decrepit surrounds. Scattered in the mix an occasional group of women either gossiping or bemoaning todays newest struggle. All in all it was a very low class neighborhood. He regarded them as unimportant yet kept his bag at his side none the less. He parked his bike at the front of an old decrepit building. The paint of it was a faded grey hidden underneath a coat of dirt and grime. It was a essentially a time capsule. A long expired artifact from the era of the war on poverty. Long forgotten and neglected. He remembered exactly why he hated this place. He climbed the stairs. Apartment 107 was what he was looking for. Yet he only found a shocking image.
Step by step his heart sank. He sensed she wasn’t there instead lay a horrid sight. His heart thunder as he looked at the door.
The door was sealed up with police tape. Splatters of long dried up blood gave the door a rusty hue. He glanced in the window what he can make out in the darkness was a deep crusty pool of red. Rusty red. A dark brown red like an insignia of fate. Laying on the floor. His heart sank as panic set in. Then he noticed two children running past him breaking his concentration. Their cries of joy seemed out of place in such a dismal area. Behind them followed a teenage girl in braids.
“Wait!” she cried flustered puffing out breaths “Mom said you can’t go to the corner store with out me.”
So intent she was on her task she didn’t notice the man's bag.
She almost slipped but he caught her. Her eyes widened as she realized he caught her by the hood of her jacket.
She blinked for a second as gently he pulled her back up. He stared studying the girl. The children paused and stared back at the man. The air was tense. He didn’t know what to say. Then finally the girl broke the silence.
“Thank you, sir.” The girl spoke in a country drawl. She recomposed herself and was about to leave but then the man stopped her.
“Can you tell me what happened here?” Asked the man as he pointed to the sealed and blood stained door.
“Are you a reporter?” Inquired the...
