If you ever saw something that you were sure you imagined or heard a sound that no one else did - then you know what it's like to attend a show starring the Novaks.
"A magical act so spectacular, it had to be real."
An oh so common statement after...
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Darkness. It can be infinite. Blinding, even. But darkness is not confined to the external world. It can live inside. Eating at the core and seeping into the mind. If one is put in a dark room, how will they know which darkness has overtaken?
The Shade Wheel Motel on West Elm Street was a place for random travelers or businessmen who needed a night away from their wives. The individual who occupied room 17 was neither of those. This traveler indeed had a purpose, and while he wasn't a businessman, he had business he needed to take care of.
Even though the lights worked perfectly fine, room 17 was dim. Some would describe it as dark. August Gulik liked it that way. August adapted to moving in the shadows. He found them comforting. For someone who was so stealthy, he was rather large. His head nearly touched the ceiling of the dinky motel room. His broad shoulders could barely fit into the shower.
The shower water ran down August's face. He felt as if his sins washed away. But when he dried off, they remained. And so did it. August rubbed the towel over his head and sat down. He sat directly across the room from it. It stared at him like a living entity. August stared back at the red polyester bag.
August paced the room. He didn't take his eyes off the bag. Like a boxer squaring off with his opponent, he neared the bag. He danced from side to side as if the bag was going to punch back. August made his move. He grabbed the bag and unzipped it. It took everything he had in him to open up this bag.
Inside was a black leather suit, red mask and a red cape with three black stripes down it. The smell of dried sweat and stale leather brought a rush of emotions. Yes, this ensemble was it.
August was built like a hero. Stood like a hero. Been told he was a hero. He looked down at the uniform of a hero and wondered, why don't I feel like one?
The motel phone rang. August left it to ring as long as he could. If he waited long enough, it would stop... But it didn't.
August answered... "Yes?"
"It's Howard," a gravelly voice rumbled through the phone.
"Captain."
"Don't get too comfortable there. We're going to send you into town," Captain Howard instructed.
"What are my orders?" August asked.
"Mick Pippet. He is the next name on your list. He owns a TV repair shop in town. You'll need to question him. Same as the others."
August rummaged through his suitcase. He pulled an envelope out of it. The paper inside had a list with a dozen or so crossed-out names. Except for two. One name that wasn't crossed out was Mick Pippet. "Mick. He's a goblin, correct?"
"That is correct," Howard replied. "He has quite the rap sheet. He was charged with numerous offenses when we brought him into the system, including assault and battery. We are down to just two known associates left to question. No need to take it easy on him."
