Written by Veluan,Wed Jul 15 13:36:17 US/Pacific 1998
Part 7
Dutton residence, St-francis in the woods
James Dutton was a attractive man just in his 30's. He stood in front of a mirror and brushed his hair. He smiled into the mirror and received a satisfied face. Everything was going great. He could practically buy the town and he never had to work again. One big strike, one idea was enough. James felt that St-Francis was his. He was the one that succeeded in life. The rest were just suckers who tried to keep their head above water. He was the guy who had the boat. James laughed at the thought.
"I have a boat." He said to his image. "Bloody hell, I have a hole fricking yacht!"
He laughed and kissed the mirror. A woman opened a door and stood still in the opening. James looked at her. She leaned against the wooden post. The whole house was practically made of wood. It was the material that was just the most available. James looked at her. She was 25 and absolutely gorgeous.
"Who are you talking to?" she said soft and sensually.
James smiled "To a very good friend.", he walked to her.
She looked at him and didn't understand. He kissed her and pressed her body against his. So she wasn't smart, James thought. They shuffeled into the room. But hell that didn't make the sex any less good, James closed the bedroom-door.
Gedde estate, New Orleans
Helena looked out one of the windows. She saw an old man walking towards the Johnson estate. He looked strange, with his white hair, red eyebrows and his black cape, he looked like trouble. Helena thought that she had seen the old man before, but she couldn't remember where or when.
In front of the Johnson estate
Firebrow knew that she was looking, but he didn't want to look back. He concentrated on the house in front of him. His cottage could fit in a couple of times, easy. He used the doorbell. He heared a short melody played on bells. He grinned, the only thing that you heard at his door was the knock on the wooden door. These people had an orchestra when you use the doorbell.
"I wonder what will happen when their clock strikes 12." he said to himself.
The door opened and a middle aged man appeared. "Yes?"
The man wore a white shirt. "Can I talk to mister Johnson?" said Firebrow polite.
"You're already talking to mister Johnson." said the man a bit offended.
"Oh, excuse me, but I thought that in this neighbourhood everybody had a servant or such."
Mister Johnson closed the door a little. "We are perfectly able to provide for ourselves, we do not want someone working here as some sort of slave."
"A perfectly good attitude." nodded Firebrow.
"Could you get to the point." said Mister Johnson who grew a bit tired of this conversation.
"Yes, I will." Firebrow's eyes turned bright blue and mister Johnson could only stare and listen.
"Your son is very special, he has a different fate than other mortals. He is previliged, but he has to come with me to fulfil his fate. When he arrives he will pack his bags and you will give him money. See it as some sort of trip."
Mister Johnson nodded slowly. Firebrow loved these situations, maybe it was the bully in him that arose, but he could never resist the occasion. He looked at the man in front of him.
"And after this conversation you will walk to a mirror and brush your hair, brush it a bit more casual, it's too stiff now. And...that's it." Firebrows eyes went normal again and Mister Johnson stopped staring and closed the door.
Mack walked to Firebrow. "You can pack your bags now, I will wait outside."
The Johnson estate
Mack opened the door and walked in. He saw his father brushing his hair in of the mirror, he was talking to his mother who nodded slowly. He walked past them.
"I will make you something for the your journey." his mother said to him.
"Okay, thanks mum." he replied.
He walked up the stairs.
"Creepy." he thought.
His father stopped brushing his hair. That's better, he thought.. more casual. There was something special about the man I spoke to at the door, something in his face...it were his....it was his cape, that's it, his cape. Mister Johnson looked at his hair with a satisfied expression on his face.
If you have any comments, you can email Veluan at gjvdmeer@tref.nl.
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