Birdtorn Tapestry

By Eric Johnsen

Brian's new office job seems to lack actual work. But he's not the only one noticing. Urbain 'Herb' Porter, the office old-timer, built a structure of sticks behind the building and sometimes walks around in a bird costume. Boss Sevcik has an office full of game paraphernalia and a secret he orders Brian to keep at all costs. Co-workers insist that Brian is being trained and catching on, but Brian is unsure.
His best friend Kliment is not much help either. Kliment's family life is crumbling and he views Brian's happy marriage and new baby as a source of security. But increasingly Kliment suspects that Brian's employers are spreading sinister tendrils farther than anyone could have imagined.
As relationships and reality disintegrate, Brian is scripted into an ancient tragedy planned long before his arrival. One in which he is helpless to escape.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eric Johnsen
• Release date: Aug 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370658565

Eric Johnsen

I was born looking more-than-vaguely extraterrestrial. As a blond-haired, blue-eyed and rosy cheeked child, I played the prince in all the school plays. Yet somehow greatness still eludes me. Why am I still working jobs for/with hung-over teenagers? Because I write in my spare time, that's why, rather than getting an Actuarial Degree, or welding my fingers together. Maybe I'll go outside now . . .

Book preview

Birdtorn Tapestry

by Eric Johnsen

Distributed by Smashwords

Copyright 2016 Eric Johnsen

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Other Works by Eric Johnsen

Chapter 1

A police barricade was set up outside the Ancient Sip Cafe. Caution tape blocked the entrance to the office mini-mart. Although the market didn't belong to the office, everyone referred to it as such. Employees of Vernalk had to account for 90% of its clientele.

Brian and his co-workers, Davide and Harlan, knew what had happened. While each hoped it was a robbery, they were sure that this was the fourth and was on the news already. A string of motiveless shop-owner killings.

Brian thought of his daughter. How her first year of life would not recall these incidents. Then something occurred to him. This must've happened while . . .

What was his name? asked Davide.

I never knew, said Harlan. He turned to Brian. You wouldn't happen to –

Brian shook his head. I only saw him once. The assistant rang me up, but he just waved, like he knew that I was with Vernalk and would be back.

Yeah, said Harlan, he knew everybody.

Herb'll know, said Davide.

That's right, Herb'll know, said Harlan. They'll probably have it on TV anyway.

The offices of Vernalk were at the edge of a large chunk of undeveloped property. Five stories high, but only the third floor was in use. Brian thought there must be machines running in the basement that powered the building. He suspected a night crew but decided the topic wasn't important enough to pursue.

What was above the offices? Old chairs, desks, broken lamps. Cobwebs and dust. Undeveloped property, like the field.

The group walked in on silence, save for the TV in the conference room.

We were gonna call you guys, someone said. Brian didn't know his name. See if you were alright.

We didn't see it happen, said Harlan. We were at the Sip.

During? asked the man.

During, said Davide.

The man forced a smile and continued to talk. Brian, man, I'm sorry your first week had to go like this.

Clam it, said someone else, and pointed to the TV.

The reporter was fresh on the scene and police looked unhappy about it. Before he was shoved away from the barrier, the reporter got a confirmation. An unknown individual had walked into the shop, then shot and killed the owner. Police were going to check surveillance and question the surrounding businesses. It was likely that the suspect had put on a hood and gloves. No one would recognize him.

Man, said an employee, you guys should've talked to the cops. Got a longer lunch out of it.

Clam it, said the same person.

All right, said Sevcik, turning