SHEOL

14

I didn't want to stay inside for long, only long enough to gather the few things I had brought. The sickening feeling of Sheol still lurked, and I didn't care to have any part of it. Just as I was about to walk out of the door, however, something caught my eye.

The candle on the table where Mr. Moonshine sat last night; it was lit.

Fear flooded through my veins and shot chills down my spine. I knew for a fact that it had been blown out, I had seen it with my eyes. Curiosity outweighed my fear though, and I cautiously walked over to it's mystifying light.

I set my backpack down onto the floor next to the booth and took a seat, exactly where Mr. Moonshine had sat the night before. I peered into the flame of the candle. The wax pillar was of medium height and length, white in color, but not as white as snow. The candle had a grayish tint, and the wick was that of a dream.

The fire was a normal fire, nothing was terribly special or mystical about it. The only peculiar aspect of it all was the fact that I couldn't figure out how it was lit.

As I grew more and more lost in the beauty of the flame, a rustling noise rang from the back hallway toward Mr. Moonshine's bedroom.

I scurried under the table, my heart pounding like a drum inside of my chest. I racked my brain to figure out all of the possible options, all of the possible people who could have entered his trailer.

"Is it the police?" I thought hastily. My conscience disagreed.

"No, it couldn't be." It argued back. "How could they have come in without noticing you sprawled out and unconscious outside of the door?"

I was so lost in nervous thought that I didn't notice a pair of tall legs standing in front of the table under which I hid.

"You can come out now," a masculine voice said in an unamused tone, cloaked by an unfamiliar accent. "I'm not going to hurt you."

I wasn't sure of whether I should trust him or not, so I just kept my eyes on his shiny black Oxfords. "I'm very comfortable under here, thanks." I responded timidly.

He crouched down. He had a head of thick, black curly hair with piercing blue eyes. His skin was porcelain, and he smiled a genuine smile. His clothes were nothing of this century; a dark suit with a vest and a tie wrapped his body. Something from the late nineteenth century. Something one shouldn't be wearing in the Desert.

"You don't look very comfortable, Miss Haas. Why don't you come out and have a proper conversation? After all, we haven't got much time."

His voice was something intense. His eyes hypnotized me; I couldn't say no.

I crawled out from under the table and took a seat across from the candle. He sat on the opposite side. "Allow me to introduce myself." He paused and smiled. "They call me The Window Killer."

I shot him a puzzled glance. "The Window Killer? That's a peculiar name."

"Yes it is. What I find more peculiar, however, is how you're not the slightest bit afraid of me."

I smiled. "I'm not afraid of a killer, especially since there are hoards of police officers right outside of the door."

He snickered. "What a lively child you are, just like he said. You'll make a lovely Field."

"Who told you about me?" I asked.

He toyed with the candle. "Why, Mr. Moonshine of course. You didn't think that that old sack was just going to leave you in the dark, did you?"

I stared into his icy eyes as they flickered with the candle's fire. "I'm sorry, but I don't recall him ever mentioning you."

He stood up. "I'm glad he hadn't. That would have surely made our introduction most awkward."