The Eidolon of Godwyn

Chapter One

How brightly it shined before he veiled it in the darkness of its small blue confinement, trapping it in his pocket. It's brilliance comparable to a small sun. It was a symbol that would beacon in not just a new day, but a new life; and at the price of nearly six thousand dollars it'd better be an amazing one. He had been hatching his scheme for months, it was nearly a year of planning, and it couldn't have aligned itself at a more opportune time. However, as exciting as it all was, he couldn't stop to revel in the moment. He was needed elsewhere. The man climbed into his to clean kept mustang, adjusting the open flaps of his suit jacket. Giving his pocket an extra pat, he reassured himself that his treasure was still there. It's presence bringing excitement, and joy. He smiled it was time, the wheels spun and the car was off down the corridors of skyscrapers.

Ossie didn't care too much for appearances, but it was on the long list of things his father had kept in high regard. After all statistics said that more attractive people made more money. He scoffed a bit at the idea. What should he care, he wasn't a model or some stripper on stage, who cares what he looked like, he thought as he adjusted his hair in the mirror. After all, America wasn't built on the back of freeloaders or the lazy. He had worked hard just like everyone else. He worked to put himself through college, he had earned his life, in spite of the shadows, despite all the pressure and disapproval. Yes, today was his day and he would not have it taken from him. The canopy of the mustang declined letting the sun warm the interior, his hair blowing in the wind.

There came a sound not that much different from an angry bee in his pocket, he opened his phone.

"Hello?"

"it's me, Malcom."

Ossie rolled his eyes at the voice. "On my way now no, need to check up on me."

"You're like a nephew to me, I don't want you to miss anything."

"I won't. I've been looking forward to this for a long time." Ossie's eyes darted to the side of the road as he passed by a hitch hiker. A sort of crazy looking old man, like if Christopher Walken had gained one hundred and sixty pounds, and a beard. His eyes kept shifting from the road ahead and the mirror as Malcom kept on talking, something not so light hearted he was sure.

"Well this party is for you Mr. Oz. It's your father's legacy, after all."

"I know, Im going to be a little late, something came up."

"Ossie-"

"I'll be there as soon as I can." And with the push of a button Malcom's voice had been silenced. It's still my day he thought, as he made a U-turn.

The car hummed to a stall as he picked up Walken's overweight doppelganger.

"Thanks man."

"No problem." Ossie replied to the grunted appreciation. Lifting an arm, he leaned into his hand non chalantly, maybe ignoring him would make his smell of beef and cheese go away.

"Nice car."

Nope. His nostrils still hated him. "thanks, worked hard for it."

"Oh yea, what you do?"

"Sell houses."

The man scratched his head, making Ossie fear he'd have to fumigate the seats later, as dandruff dirt and the foreign fell into his car.

"Must pay a lot."

"When you exceed in the family business that's already on top you do." Ossie smiled.

"Oh! Got ourselves some kind of wizard, wanta conjure me up some kinda house?"

"For the right price."