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I don't have any talent when it comes to titles. Sugestions are appreciated!
Sto
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"Nnn..." I groaned. My eyes were just barely open, and my head throbbed like no migrane headache I had ever experienced. From what little vision I had at the moment, I could sense bright light, and an enclosed space.
Rolling onto my side, I felt blood rush to my head, a familiar sensation. I opened my eyes a little more; only to see a finely furnished room. When I felt safe from hearing no sound, I leaped to my feet. I was surrounded in crimson red furniture, and still-lifes on the walls. I stumbled over to a settee and sat down, rubbing my temples.
Staring into a mirror, I recognized myself, a good sign (at least in the books I had read). I saw my normal slim frame, Indonesian-American face, mind the Hungarian eyes. I tucked a lock of dark brown hair behind my ear, and fixed the rest of my shoulder-length 'do' by pulling it up into a bun.
"Nice to see you're awake Miss Triston." I heard a deep male voice from behind me.
"Whaddaya want?" I demanded with a little slang. All I was trying to do up at Washington Park was take photos of the eagles and make a nice article,all to make a living.
"You know what I want, Triston, if you're not comfortable with ahem...just plain Stormy." The man was dressed in a clean suit, and looked like as if he was about to make an important speech. "If I read your column correctly, you write very well, you interviewed Lindon Wevel, the leading scientist?"
I knew the man had read correctly. It had been one heck of a day, driving all the way to Seattle to meet up with Lindon, but ti was worth it. Lindon was a very kind man, who enjoyed educating me in his field of science, which involved the interdimentional theories. I was very interested in his work. Lindon thaught me that as long as I was dedicated to what I did, I would rise.
"What do you exactly want to know...who are you?" I stared stright into the man's hazel eyes; I could tell he was about three inches taller than me, possibly 5 years older.
"Call me....Carson. Pen-name to pen-name, eh not-Stormy?" Right again, 'Carson' knew that my name wasn't even Stormy, though I had adopted it about a year back. "I want to know about Wevel's black hole theory." Wevel's black hole theory was the one thing he told me about that he wished forme not to writie about. Somehow, the theory as a theory (meaning not the theory, but the fact that it was there) got leaked to the public, probably through a snoop in my notes.
"Why so?" I needed to stall 'Carson' long enough to find a way out.
"BECAUSE I NEED IT, THAT'S WHY, TRISTON!!" Carson boomed. He seemed to have a short fuse. I pressed my lips together.
"Give me a minute, I need to recollect myself and what I remember from the interview. May I have a cup of water?" I asked quite politely, something I could use in desperate situations.
"Ehm...sure.." Carson muttered. "But I can't let you see me." With a snicker, the tall man tackled me, and ended up pressing the smelly cloth to my nose.
YOU ARE READING
The Travel Column
AdventureAll Stormy Triston did was interview a leading scientist, no biggie. He leaked to her his master theory, still no biggie. Snoop in her notes? A little less than normal but bearable, it was Wevel's fault on releasing the theory. Add not-Carson, a lo...
