The Faerie Slayer

Chapter 18

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**

I closed the book after rereading that second page. I had shivers that warred the surface of my skin and had the sudden urge to google the author. I typed in Robert Schmidt into the search bar and stumbled into a whirlwind of hundreds of people by the same name. Nobody that stood out of course until finally I was on the third page of results and I seen an image of the books cover.
I was brisk to click on it and read the four sentence paragraph associated with the name.

Robert Schmidt was an Ohio-born writer who graduated from The Ohio State University with an M.A in philosophy. He was best known for his work; How to kill Seven Ghosts With One Stone. Robert Schmidt was diagnosed with severe schizoaffective disorder at the early age of twelve. He later died in a tragic swimming accident in 1982.

There was no picture of what the man looked like, no other explanation or words to shed some further light. I browsed the web for half an hour more but came up empty to closure. I gave up the impossible task and browsed through my closet for what to wear tonight. The Snake Pit was a coffee lounge that transferred into a club when the sun went down. The crowd slowly shifts from struggling  students of the arts college goers and their laptops to a grouchy, heavy metal music type of mob. I have only been there twice and both times I had come out without either my phone or wallet. I put on a pair of distressed black shorts as the weather had warmed up just the slightest bit as we neared the summer time. I paired it with a charcoal grey short sleeve crop top that had the logo of a band that I had never listened to before on the chest area. I brushed my hair and put on some mascara and eyeliner and and on my feet I wore sneakers. When I observed myself in the mirror, the bruises were still far too visible. I changed into jeans and headed out. On my porch as if he was just arriving was Ben.

"What are you doing back here?" I asked.He was at a loss for words at first. He stared at me as if he couldn't recognize me," Ben, what's the matter with you?"

"Nothing, you just look so good," he was still slightly wide-eyed and wide-mouthed,"Did your boobs grow overnight?"

"Shut up,Ben."

"It's a compliment!"

"Thanks," I pushed past him and walked down the porch," why did you come back though? Shouldn't we be meeting at Boerum Hill?"

"I wanted to take you there, like a gentlemen," I peered at his outfit for the first time. He looked good, more dressed up then usual for Ben. I could tell that he'd put in some effort into his choice of clothing. He wore a grey and white button up shirt that was draped over a fresh pair of black jeans. His sneakers were either new or he'd finally cleaned them.

"You look really good too," I suddenly sniffed the air as he grew closer on our walk to the metro station," oh my god, is that cologne?"

"Shut up," he groaned and I suddenly wondered what triggered this sudden shift.

"Did your dad call?"

"No, stop asking."

"Jeez, alright."

We took a couple trains down to Boerum Hill and walked a mile out to The Snake Pit. We had heard the raging of the music whilst we were still a whole half a mile away. I texted Caleb that I had just arrived and he said that he would be in soon. Inside, we scavenged through the mob of drunk twenty somethings at the door and made it inside. We were pushing past dozens of people, it was too dark to distinguish any faces and far too loud to make clear of ones own thoughts.