9:30 am
Maximalian Wilson (the one we knew and thenine George knew) stood in front of his senior's house, his eyes surveying the exterior of the house. A few minutes ago, he had received a call from Robert Viscotti, owner of the convenience store he works for, asking him to check the store. It turned out that Robert (also) received a call asking him why the store was closed. Robert had answered the customer with the usual, "Sorry for the inconvenience. I'll be in touch."675Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTEjTu2etlO
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The store should've been open by 8:00, but 9:00 had struck the clock with the store still with the chains on the roll down gate. Mr. Viscotti had sounded furious, and Max thought he handled the call immaturely.
"Wilson. Where the fuck is Rozier? Its 9:03 and the shop is still closed. What the fuck is he doing?" Mr. Viscotti had asked.
"I don't know Mr. V. I'm goan go check the store if ya want and-----"
"Do you have the keys?"
"Uh, nope."
"Then why the fuck would you go to a closed store?"
"Shit. I didn't think of-----"
"Did you just swear in my presence, boy?"
"Sorry, Mr. V, I'm go---"
"Just go find him. And call me when you do." Click.
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Max lowered the phone and muttered to himself, "Why do old people swear in from of young 'uns then get mad the young' uns do the same?" He shook his head, left home and walked straight to George Rozier's house. 675Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9jal9xpyVO
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Now Max approached the door, his eyes and senses alert. He had felt something different the moment he stepped within the vicinity of the house. His arms stretched and his hands rested on the doorknob, then he slowly turned it. Fuck. Someone's here. But George isn't. Then before he pushed it open, he was suddenly dumbstruck and was frozen. Not here? But he is here.... No, that can't be. The presence is different but...fuck, he's fading. Then Max entered the house. He had planned to call out for George before he reached the house, but something didn't feel right to him, and silence seemed to be better. He was in the living room, and he saw a bottle of brandy in the table beside the sofa, and an overturned glass on the floor, a little bit of brandy spilled and seeping into the floorboards. 675Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOcXZnu3do3
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Then he heard a whispering voice which was neither male nor female.
Fon, sai ti has kala glain. Fon, sai. Fon, sai.
Max felt afraid. It was the Sacred Tongue. This, he knew, was speaking the truth, and he understood that the entity was neutral. This did not belong to the damned, nor to the glorified. This was just an entity trapped in this world and blessed(cursed) with the lack of anything to do beside watch humans poison themselves. 675Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj1GzpmG8Ey
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Then the entity whisoered once again.
Fon, sai ti has kala glain. Fon, sai. Fon, sai.
Max repeated the words. This time though, in a language we could understand, and a language Max needs to live with.
"Gone, lost in the other plane. Gone, lost. Gone, lost."
And Max knew there was nothing else he could do for his senior. George was on his own.
But there was something he could do to make things look normal in the eyes of the others.
He dialed 911 and reported that George Rozier was missing.
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