Sardoodledom: Part Two Darkened Promise Fury's Truth: SARDOODLEDOM, #2

By Laura Jean Lysander

A Bowdlerized, cleaner version of Sardoodledom: Darkened Promise Part Two Fury's Truth; It was almost eight months later, after the harrowing, deadly, shocking incident that changed all of their lives in an instant; Resilient and brilliant, the young athletic beauty Eir stumbles upon a fated cryptic message from the missing, abducted, enigmatic princely Imre. This leads to an unexpected trip for Eir and the now non-tyrant turned Templar Tony, cagey, suave Tony knows much more about it than Eir or anyone else was aware of, and his now torrid feelings are running rampant; he has held it only to himself in obscurity until now, for soon it will all come spilling forth with another jarring, supernatural, mystic, arcane clue; to figure out just how and when to find and rescue the abducted and valiant ransomed Imre, who has secretly, courageously been praying they discover what aid and romantic pledges he has left for them before the terrible, tangled web of their veiled, clandestine family's secrets ensnares and destroys them all While Imre is discovering more and more hidden, horrid truths of their past, as well as new ancestral and kinship members who seem to all be against him? All the family seems to be plotted against him, all except one innocent hidden individual now in mortal peril as he;  Can they all escape the dynamited danger and surmount the evils lurking within their clandestine family tree thickly filled with thorny prickled twists and turns? Will Eir and Tony be able to find and emancipate the captive, calamitously cornered Imre? Read on noir thriller romantics, and find out...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Phantasmique The Mystic Scroll & Scribe
• Release date: Jun 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223245537

Book preview

By Laura Jean Lysander

Illustrative graphic editing

cover art by Squire Lysander~

~Bowdlerized, clean version~

A Dark, Demented

Supernatural

Mystery Soap Operetta

Comedy  Suspense Thriller...

In Short, A Modern Gothic Noir Love Story...

Dedicated to all those who have been abused,

bullied, mistreated,

unjustly ridiculed and misjudged,

who have endured and risen above,

and continue to live and forgive;

for LOVE...

is all that matters...

Forward

THIS TALE is a Bowdlerized FIRST PARTITIONED  half of  Darkened Promise, now called Fury’s Truth, Part Two, within the novel Series Sardoodledom: That means it has been re-done to sweeten and lessen the dark and stark, questionable dialogue and deliberating on censorable graphic scenarios of the storyline that hadn’t been included in previous editions, only here in this version, it is watered down. The editing became so elaborate as I fixed errors that I had to split Darkened Promise down the middle or wind up having a Noir War and Peace Soap Opera on my hands. I did it so that the reader didn’t have to worry about reading a paperweight and take a bearable break; It is still available in its full undivided inglorious un-edited darker-writ Edition with the many incredible erroneous mistakes...and abundant swear terms, chilling details if you’d rather have it that way, choices are good; although I do think this edition would be more worthy and more stomach-able to read. I will revisit this when Grace allows me to clean the combined version up, as soon as I finish and clear this task.

May I suggest you read the first part, The Broken Rule, Part One: and then the third part, Eternal Finale, once it is also re-edited.

Just be aware that this snarky, verbose, overdone nefariously torrid sequel is even more sinister, deranged, diabolically darker, and adverse than the former first part, The Broken Rule, even in this cleaned-up edition; regard that before delving into it, and possibly please read the first half if you wish, for you would be missing out on many of the key former elements of its incredulously ridiculous, overdone, melodramatic plot line and character’s back story. Not to say this demented half cannot stand up on its own, I think it can if you enjoy this, ah, type of thing...?  It was specifically written as a continuation to the previous part, and because it just could not fit all of its overly exaggerated and profuse elaboration of notoriously dramatic overdone personal familial human horror into one book. I cut the project in half and published it this way for it just became too long and winded.

The second half of Sardoodledom (which is this one) involves mature characters, subject matter, and even more awful, disturbing flashback situations which may not be suitable for younger teen readers; These will be lessened here and some of it omitted for that is why I am writing a cleaner version. I strongly advise and recommend the reader to be at least within the third year of high school or coming of age presently; it is not for the virtuously strict of heart to read (they may condemn it even in this bowdlerized edition) nor those who shy away from the dark misfortunes of life, so please heed the I told you so warning if you feel it may be too much to deal with, for even I found it unnerving while attempting to complete it and agitated me, not at all my favorite exercise to do.

Maybe I’m just too sensitive? Is that it? There are also as mentioned mature characters, adults adulting in many significantly wrong, non-politically correct ways, and the plot takes you off and out totally from the high school setting within the previous prequel quite quickly to a more adventurous, unknown overseas scenario, as many Soap Operas tangent to, though not devoid of any of the flavor of the first half; so if you just wanted more (and worse of) of what you had read in the first part it is here, served up hot on a platter; you just need to know it isn’t dealing with day to day teenaged school scene relationship or classrooms at all, it moves out of that quickly as the adventure advances as stated as it introduces some new, previously mentioned older and not so older characters to love and hate, elevating the soap operatic theme.

It flashes and regresses into some of the reprehensible, censurable, utterly offensive, hurtful traumatic past events of the main characters, so you get a better idea and backlog of why they are whom they have evolved into, and why they have behaved that way and describing some of the reasons behind the actions in the first part The Broken Rule, as you read, the missing links start to add up and become ‘aha’ moments. Some (most flashbacks) may disturb some, and that is why most of the graphic elaboration will be omitted in this edition; but frankly, it disturbed me greatly even to create, delve into and write it, and for me, it was laborious to continue to do, I hesitated to do it, and even did not go full force with them, and debated should I honestly include these scenes, even if they were in snippets mentioned as part of the story in the first half as clues just briefly?

Should I go so far as to elaborate and write them out? Is it censurable? I resolved to continue. I still am unsure if that was wise to do, I honestly did keep getting up to walk away, disturbed each time I had edited and updated the versions as it genuinely upset me morally to forego it (as I thought it would anyone; it did not give me pleasure but experience) and were the most unenjoyable detestable scenes to create, but I did to challenge myself, and to finish and complete the story, for it was there, parts of it just not ever fully explained and they should be; blanks were there, hidden and secreted off, and many who if they do read this in scrutiny would question the back story and why it was left out. They will be visited here but not in the detail they are in the previous edition. I guess this explanation may quench that question. Maybe I am an author wimp, who knows? I myself am not even sure why except...

With that explained, it is my pleasure to write for you, and thanks for your interest, this is a tale of fiction and in no way taken from any real-life factual occurrences or individuals; please pass no judgment upon it, for it will (at least I know) was done on my side to humanely help those who have gone through such tragic, unspoken situations in life to have others understand where they are coming from, to place oneself within their shoes, their perspective, and have compassion and respect for them; That to me is the saving grace of the reason, and to help heal those as we altruistically should who have been there.

The foretelling of the action also switches back and forth from all of the perspectives of the three main characters. In short, three-first-person views, and a one-third-person perspective, so you can understand where they all individually are coming from, where their minds and hearts are at when possible, for those who may have a favorite character can now get much more of an idea of what makes them feel and tick from them. This is not usually the case in a novel, but I pushed myself as a writer to get into the characters deeply and form them in strength, an exercise for me, also as a former actress to accentuate their individual traits, and a treat for the readers who wished to see this in each of their point of view when possible.

The ending? Well, I’m not too sure if... there really is one, and I am even toying with the idea of another nefarious prequel part to this If I could, for there are some clues written in this second half regarding more of the ancestral past of the character’s family. I might be able to go forward with that idea if I ever have time or whimsy and do not finally tear my hair out over this and finally can stop the infinite infamy of updating it, or more inspiration, or finally get these two parts to the point where they are to me finally done...and after this edition, I think (not really) they will be, but then again, this is a Sardoodledom soap operetta...

Prologue

"E r schläft so viel ; always sleeping , und not peacefully, zis one; ah-is he all right? Vhen vill he awaken?" The young lady, Fraulein Cassie commented in her German, peering down at the delirious, unconscious young man lying upon the centuries-old, German, black forest wood, hand-carved four-postered canopied bed. Its thick, heavy velvet lux curtains had been drawn back to reveal its forlorn sleeper. The room was richly, elaborately furnished with antique furniture... yet stark at the same time, as if devoid of personal touches, just superfluous in decor, with a domed, arched, gothic high ceiling gracing the rounded turret windowed inclusion; It certainly passed for a top-floor castle bedchamber suite due to its detailed, richly ornate interior. The chamber was an absolute antiquity of luxury yet without any modern devices whatsoever;

The edifice was centuries old, so it should be considered a castle. The bedchamber suite was high within the very antiquated, unused wing of the elite, aged stone Schloss Mansion-Villa of historic and museum-worthy rank; he, this sleeping individual they were commenting on was sequestered purposely within the partition of the residence where no visitors had ever entered, just the immediate family and some well-paid servants and private, entrusted helpers-caretakers, as the Master of the house, Erb-Graf Ulrich called them and said they were very much needed for him and his grave predicament. Yet they, those ‘helpers’ honestly... were not that.

"Er muss sediert werden, Cassie; he has to be tranquilized right now, or he vill definitely hurt himself,-or even...You," Master Ulrich responded to her, also in German, staring down at the young man in the bed with an odd look of distant, aristocratic intrigue. He is a danger right now for all, needs constant supervision;  Remember zat.

One would think that gaze and any thought from him would and certainly should be of paternal love, care, warmth, and sentiment, relief. He was, after all, his true birth father.

Yet... once again, it was not. Not even a minuscule, meager, small blip of possible parental bonding clung to him, ever, and that loving, protective thought so lofty never even had crossed his egotistical, stand-offish, vainglorious, indulgent, darkened, solipsistic self-absorbed mind. No; Sadly, something far more sinisterly nefarious festered there, and always had.

"Mein Gott, Lieb, he looks so much like you, from your older photos, ze ones you have shown me; just fairer in hair und eye; Gut ausshend," Victoria remarked, under her breath, blinking her lovely, long stately eyelashes, her elegantly shaded, cat-winged made-up smoked and frosted eyes studying him with enamored fascination. She feigned as if this was the very first time she had ever seen him, but it wasn’t.

She had remembered that one singular adventurous night in the USA, stopping by at that fancy upscale rented ballroom, the teenage Halloween Costumed Ball Party affair whence they accosted and addressed him, he adorned in that gorgeously lavish costume, shining and breathtaking, just as a prince charming should, regally and royally, a walking Adonis, looking so much dashingly as her husband would have when he was that young and almost of age, and even more stirringly handsome and attractive than he, Erb Graf Master Ulrich  was, such a superb speaking voice and accent, as she remarked a bit fairer, lighter in the hair and eye;

She knew then immediately what she was going to resolve in her silent clandestine thoughts to do, had it already intricately schemed, lay it all out in her mind already, and along with her unabashed, alluring, eye-catching beauty and renowned vixen expertise, you could say she was a brunette -haired German Zsa Zsa Gabor in celebrity history comparison; she didn’t think this sleeping adonis ever stood a chance, this young clone, especially since he was after all, Ulrich’s birth son, and had the same bloodline coursing through his veins. Hook, line, and sinker she was sure he, this sleeping prince charming would fall hard and she’d reel him in like a caught, trapped, floundering minnow gasping for air;

She mused expectantly...anticipating the snare, and so sure of herself, like all her other unknown secret conquests, but this one by far would be the cherry topping on her sweet syrupy sundae: the catch of a lifetime, she’d be swimming in it all, not only having the Father under her spell but his son as well, a twisted fantasy of a coup. She’d allure and mold and connive, oh she’d be irresistible of course, and there wouldn’t be any other standing competition worthy or in her league to vie; It would result in everything she ever desirably wanted and more, and he’d succumb to her ingenious, fabled charms; She couldn’t wait until he was able and about. Or, maybe she didn’t even have to; the more helpless, despairing, and needy he would be, the better for her.

Master Ulrich then shot her a smolderingly hot stare, as if perturbed she had even dared to voice a comparison to him towards the other in the bed, then softened it, flicking his hardened, steely, handsomely middle-aged long-lashed gaze back towards the young man in the bed, who squirmed a bit and sighed greatly in his hazy, enforced, induced hallucinatory sleep, totally oblivious to what was going on about him.

"May ve...just visit him? Cassie inquired, eagerly, very curious, overly stirred by the young man’s strikingly pristine looks, so much like her stepfather’s only brightened, a male counterpart to sleeping beauty" she mused, involuntarily lying in that majestic old bed and restrained.

"Only you two may visit, and zhat is all. No one else is to know or is aware of him, except for my exclusive man-servants to tend him privately. Ziz is all for his safety and vell being; no one but us may know. Tell no one. It is only between us. This is private, family business, only for us to see and discuss. I know you understand zis, and vhat I mean by it. He is quite... awfully ill, Cassie, and vill not get better, only vorsen, and needs to rest and be kept... alone.  He must be restrained und sedated for a while; he vill think and have awful opinions of me, from all zose lies, Lügen told to him so many years. He may get a little better if he is kept alone, sequestered. He may last longer, though I have been told otherwise; he is krank, schlecht, a hopeless case. At least his last months or his eventual end vill be here, where he should be, his ancestral home, and in comfort, give him vhat we can, so much better than vhat he has been through all zose years... from vhat I have discovered of his past. I can at least give him zat honor," Master Ulrich sternly responded. Cassie nodded obediently, always doing as told. She would heed any of his orders and be greatly rewarded with gifts when she did so.

How long zen is poor, schon sohn Marcus to be vith us? Such a shame, vergueden, Victoria, the older beauty mumbled, sighing as if bored, pretending to be uninterested, primping at her hair, vainly checking the polish on her flashing, diamond-ring-fingered nails, then sidling up to her husband, spooning behind him, embracing his frame closely to hers, and placing her hands around his waist, massaging him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"Not too long; It could be ein Jahr, maybe more, maybe even less. Do not disturb him too often or any more zhan he should be. Once he is ready to be up and awake, to walk about... do not talk of vhat is going on outside, out of the Schloss, he vill be truly upended and persistently upset zat he cannot leave, or go outside of ze grounds anyvhere, except to the Rose Gardens of ze greenhouse, possibly ze gym, ze pool in this wing of the Villa, always accompanied by his wards ven he is stronger. Expect zat from him once he awakens, his growing frustration and vehemence, and his attempts to move about and yes, escape as if he is a prisoner and try to sway him to think otherwise; Limit your conversation vith him, to spare any brisant incidents, for you already know have been told vhat is to happen," Master Ulrich instructed, warned with strict intent.

Cassie and Victoria and the man servants all nodded to him, still gazing downward, pining at the young man, who sighed heavily once more, the fine, golden chain and cross upon his neck glistening, glittering as he moved softly. He could hear voices, but not what was being said. To him, it was all muffled, a dreamy haze, unable to rise or awake from the bed.

"Zat vas so generous of you, to use your Deusen and venture off to save and find him, rescue him, and bring him back," Cassie whispered, still in an infatuated state. Even if it is only for a short while.

"Almost 18 Jahrs missing? Vell zat is quite a long time to be heisted, taken, stolen, entführen, all his underage life zen to search and finally after all zat chaos find him, Victoria added, strangely, whispering to his ear, then kissing it. You are so valiantly relentless! Even if it is almost too late as stated."

There was some scratching and weird whining on the outside of the double-doored bedroom they were all standing in, infiltrating their ears.

"Who let zem up here? Bring zem back down! Nobody but us comes in here! Get zem OUT!" Master Ulrich boomed towards the door, irked, annoyed. There was shuffling, and the noises and whining ceased. Master Ulrich boldly stared down once more silently, at the young man in the bed fitfully sleeping innocently.

"He vill have to be like this for a few months, on and off. At night he must be sedated, restrained until I say otherwise. Ze man-servant helpers ze nurses administered for him who are outside ze door vill tend to him. Do not interfere vith zeir job. Spend a few more minutes here, zen you need must go. I vill meet you formally for our guests at dinner in the opposite right ving of the Manor within ze hour. And dress vell, ve shall have some investment guests of mine for business tonight from ze Opera, and then ve vill all leave after our dinner party fundraiser, to go see ze new Opera performance I helped produce, now zat I vill be home... for ze month, to tend to a few private, lingering matters; zen I vill be, must be off again to travel and for business until ze middle of next year, in Europe, overseas, stopping in from time to time to check up on it all, and arrive back late May, very early June; Tell our guests nothing of zis; it is for no one to hear or see, and better zat vay for all; Zis is so traumatic..."

Master Ulrich added with a tinge of feigned despondence, frowning, turning to leave the room, opening the double doors, and striding out dignifiedly like the elegant, suave, sophisticate socialite, the debonair, kingly Count of the Manor, which he was.

Cassie followed on his heels, staring bleakly back to the bed, not wishing to leave yet entrancingly fascinated, with a saddened gaze.

Victoria just stood there, still very quiet, squinting her cattish, elegantly smoky, bedroom eye gaze over, surveying the young man extensively from head to toe, devising her next covert, cagey move, stroking her finely formed vixen chin of affluent breeding, contemplating, and raising her lovely arched eyebrows in secret intrigue.

A year is more zen enough time, she quietly whispered, muttered, trailing her elegant, be-ringed fingers and jeweled, bracelet-dripped wrist over the velvet bedcovers near the sleeping young man’s covered toes, the golden encrusted bangles clinking, with a twisted, salacious grin, and then turned to leave.

CHAPTER 1

THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE NEVER DID RUN SMOOTH~ - SHAKESPEARE-

IT WAS VERY EARLY IN June, seven, almost eight months had progressed from the paranoid mayhem and pandemoniac, mentally psychologically damaging incidents that dangerously gutted, and forever scarred mine and many other’s lives; it had passed excruciatingly by, and I was once again in the Schenectady high school hallway for change of classes. I dared not to revisit my memories. I started to, although I was having a troubled time concentrating on it, or even touching upon the thought... yet with forced diligence in my mind, finally went to musing about the long list of colleges that had so far offered me and would accept me with full scholarships, trying to sort through all of them, for I still had not made up my mind, and was possibly even thinking of taking-actually I was going to take that six months to a gap year off just to mull it over... what indeed I should do;

What I indeed should do...?

Who was I kidding? you know what you’re planning to do, regardless of how many colleges would wait for and had accepted you; You know what that is since nothing at all had changed. You know what your heart was planning to do, as soon as you turned of age;

No, Eir O’Casey, that wasn’t why you wanted to do it, take that time off just to pick and choose and weigh those options; you wanted to escape, to leave it all and just find...him, Finally, if possible. Stop lying to yourself and face it. You know that was and is the only thing that had been on your mind and in your heart and what you were striving for all this time, all these months in diligence and silence. Not the prestige, or colleges, universities, and conservatories, or what they had to offer. The colleges... The colleges, all honestly didn’t mind, they all said they’d take me If I wished, whenever I decided, or even if I did take that time off afterward; still couldn’t believe it. It had not sunk in. Nothing had penetrated my stoic reserve, the facade of secret, agonizing torment no one was allowed to see by me;

There were eight Ivy League schools in the USA involved and many others. They had all accepted me, to my stunned surprise and so many more, and it made me so- still so unused to the fuss or clamoring attention, still. I could have even gone overseas, to the foreign conservatories or universities involved in Europe; Royal Academy, Royal College, Conservatoire Paris,  Sibelius, Vienna, Amsterdam...I was in utter shock, but was seriously contemplating that particular option, for to me it was the best choice, to just leave it, leave all of it that had swept me into the calamity and fated epic fortune or misfortune, the two-sided coin of it all, just how you look upon it;

I never honestly felt I had ever belonged here, in Schenectady, or that I would ever wish to stay. This was not where I was intending to reside now for the rest of my life. That idea was dead and buried. Never did I at all feel at home here, or that this was home, or happy, or in the right place, my destiny here never was fortunate, not up until he so sweetly, compassionately, bravely, and without judgment of my ostracized status befriended me, told me of deepest secrets and fears, and then romantically swept me off my feet and pursued me, for he was of my deepest soul spirit and heart, he was my home...with him, I was home, and now, he had been snatched and taken and was gone.

My teachers and my parents, they advised, told me to apply to them, every single one of any conservatory or college of high learning I thought I might wish to attend even before I had met...Him, so I had; they also accepted me, all of the ones that I applied to; Nothing could have stopped me, my entire life and choices were now out for me to ponder and pick from; it overwhelmed me to the point that I could not choose, yet I never showed it, but I still...I had falteringly not chosen, yet I was leaning toward those not even in the United States...those across the Pond, in Europe, or the UK.

There were also numerous admissions for gymnastics and sports, and ALL of them accepted me with full free-ride scholarships, Universities of Denver, Cali, Georgia, Florida, District of Columbia, Michigan, Alabama, Missouri, Utah, Washington, and Arizona, ALL of them wanted me. For my conservatory vocal singing, voice, and music, Juilliard, Curtis, Manhattan, Berklee, all of them, and the other Ivy Leaguers mentioned for just my Valedictorian grade point average.

All of the ones I had applied to had accepted me shockingly, it even frightened me, with full four-year Scholarships, Full, possibly more if I wanted to go further with a Master's or doctorate which was the plan before...what happened, happened; You would think I would be grateful, astounded, and screaming in ecstatic jubilation. I had to choose soon, by the end of the week if attending next Fall;

I had to. Even the local county newspaper and local TV news to my moral, reservations had run a small story about it, about me and my ‘accomplishments’... to my utmost mortified shy embarrassment, I was forced to be on camera for them, answering questions humbly. I did it with the courage I had reserved and bucked up and brought forth since learned, for my school, for they were so proud of me, they all now turned to me as their leader; my parents imploring me to do it; I shoved that stoic bravery out, held to my heart; But...secretly, I felt nothing... absolutely nothing, a big gaping hole of nothing. Absolutely nothing with wishing to continue with my now duly won and shining academic star status.

I was silently screaming, just to myself. I was graduating with those top honors, and was the Valedictorian of the graduating class, inducted into every honor society there was, as... he had commented I would be the very first day I had spoken to him. I was doing everything I was supposed to be doing, the renowned pillar of society, a stellar valedictorian student, but I was just going through the motions,  robotically walking through it, and for everyone else, not me.

Nothing had touched me, or changed my humble wishes; in fact, nothing seemed to matter to me anymore, not for almost eight months. I had been in a blank, overdrive, over-fried daze. It had gone by so fast yet it was excruciating and I thought I was dying.

It was just a few weeks from graduation and I had indeed already graduated, no need to be here in these halls, but as usual in school with the rest of the senior class just meandering around until the diploma Ceremony. And what I truly, secretly felt...

I could never honestly reveal. No longer was I invisible, or flagrantly shunned as in my woeful past. That stigma had long gone away. I was glaringly treated like a legend, a leader, and had to live up to the acquired label and standard I never thought I’d have or commit to;

I tutored, shared what I could every day, taught piano and voice, and coached gymnastics, keeping extremely busy to fill that blatant gaping hole. I also still did child care on the side when I had the time. They all paid me generously even though I never asked for anything. I advocated and counseled those timid students, those who were kooky, and quirky, those who professed dire need secretly and helped them to the right channels to aid them, those whom I sensed as well were ‘sensitives’ like I, who didn’t seem to fit in, or had a hard time socially, those who honestly needed true guidance and mentored them.

I made a difference, truly, a difference that showed within the community and county, and the difference it gave within my heart so truly worthwhile, which had paid back far more than any money, and they flourished, those who had come to me. Even with that to console me...I still felt the epic chasm of grief hidden within even if Everyone wanted me to mentor them. For now, everyone wanted my time and a piece of me. I was helping everywhere, just as he had set in motion and had done with his philanthropy, I now had stepped into his shoes to keep his absent shining, glorious star bright. The senior trip had come and gone, I had not attended.

The Prom... was to be sometime next week, and I refused to go, I had helped with all the preparations, the planning, and all other aspects of it, and with startled awkwardness, had been asked to it, to be escorted by so many young suitors as their date and partner yet I just couldn’t; my heart would always be taken; I couldn’t date anyone. It wasn’t that I was wallowing in my self-pity; it was that whatever feelings and partnership I had was still there as if he, the absconded, abducted absent one of myne heart had never disappeared.

I turned the invitations all down, just as I had every time I had been asked for a date, and I had been asked now for outings and dates every single week, too many invitations to count they did not stop asking me, but I could not, would not go; and everyone understood why. They understood why I declined, and they cared. They even respected me, and they had secretly wished just as I, waited just as I had, for the other missing half of what I was a part of, a miracle, to faithfully return to me if he honestly could. They didn’t think I was crazy or a lost cause due to it.

Everyone, including yours truly, had kept that valiant spark of hope that someday, even more than half a year later, something would change. No one was giving up, at all, on the miracle wish. Yet no one knew. No one knew within that I despairingly cried silent waterless tears every night, every single night since it all went down.

I suffered in secret, I was of the walking deteriorating dead, and no one but me understood, how I felt, except possibly, just one. I couldn’t remember the last time I laughed. I was just like a Night of The Living Dead zombie, just going through the motions for everyone else, in secret servitude, keeping up the fearless front, flaming the hearth that he had fired for everyone, including me.

I was Eirloom O’casey, Angel to be, a genuine true person- the icon; the stoic surviving half of someone who had been savagely torn, ripped away, stolen from all, hidden somewhere where no one could find him, yet I knew, I felt he was trying, vainly, with all his valiant might trying but wasn’t able to do anything to get back to me, any word of where he was or what was going on-or to anyone;

Something malignant and malicious was holding him back, against his will, holding him hostage, a satanic, sick morbid, as if all in a drugged daze...I knew it, had felt it festering for months and months, due to our bond, our special, bonded, melded sensitivities, like an organic Internet connection re-plugged and wired, for it, that part of it had