The Damned of Lost Creek
Page 25
Price smiled. “No matter what, Mikhail, Justice, I’m not going to deport either of you,” he chuckled again, most likely questioning why he was addressing my second personality.
Speak for yourself, Bitch. Daddy and I talk often.
You called him Daddy.
Yeah, I’m over it.
“Or send you away,” he continued, “or back there, or anywhere you don’t want to be. This is your home. It has always been your home, and will always be your home.”
And that’s what we’ve always wanted to hear.
“Thanks.”
“There’s nothing to thank me for, Girls,” he assured us. “When you’re ready we’ll have a late dinner while Dillon sets up a game. I’m sure she’s called Simian already. Those two together are nothing but trouble now that she’s of legal drinking age,” he teased with a wink.
“Thank you for giving us a chance,” I blurted out when he opened the door.
Price smiled. “Thank you for allowing me to,” he said then slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him.
That went better than I thought it would.
“Yeah, strangely better.”
Oh well. What’s the worst that can happen? We get eaten by that annoying little bitch in the woods?
“That is always a possibility!” I beamed, and she chuckled. “There’s always tomorrow,” I said, heading towards the door and stopped in mid-step when I noticed something on the desk.
Epilogue
Journal of Mikhail & Justice
On my desk was a leather book with a pen wrapped with a black ribbon around it and a note. I pulled the folded, heavy cardstock out and flipped it open.
Mon Cœur,
Sometimes the only way to exercise the demons we face is to externalize them on paper. Think of it as a record to add to the history of your family, a means to share with those that love you and would move Heaven and wage war with Hell to protect you, when you are ready to share it.
Don’t be scared to simply be yourself. You are surprisingly resilient and beyond words, adorable even…
Fill the pages with your words. No filters, no erasing. Fill this journal and when you are ready, share it with the man that holds you in his heart. -D
Slightly creepy, but I think I get it.
“D?” I mumbled.
Daddy? He called you my heart.
“Yeah that makes sense,” I said, pulling the ribbon free then fanned through the old, ivory pages. “This journal has to be older than the house.”
It’s nice. Something we’d see in the antiquities section of the library that Dot Marie would supervise us in.
I nodded.
The journal is aged amethyst-tinted leather with rubbed gold borders and a section in the front for a picture…
We need a camera.
“I agree.”
I sat at the desk then the pulled calligraphy pen from the ribbon and opened the journal to the first page.
Property of Mikhail & Justice Simoeau.
Volume One.
I giggled. “That sounds so stupid,” I said, writing it.
The journal isn’t meant to be altered, obviously. What we write is permanent.
“Not if I rip the page out,” I said.
You wouldn’t do that, not to Daddy and not to an antique that is most likely an heirloom or something. Stop being a whiny bitch and open up. Daddy won’t read it without our permission. Keep it tucked away under the mattress and we’ll be fine.
I looked over to the windows at my reflection.
“You are being strangely optimistic. It doesn’t sound like you in the least,” I commented.
She shrugged. I was scared, thinking we lost what we had been handed and I don’t want to lose it again. If this is what Daddy wants us to do, then we’ll do it. If this is all he’s asking for, I consider that a win. Don’t you think?
I made a face. “True. It’s what all the damn therapists wanted us to attempt.”
Yeah, but we mainly drew pictures of stick people being shot up just to fuck with them.
I giggled. “Yeah, that was fun. You nearly got us committed and put on the no-fly list!”
My bad.
“We’ll attempt this literary form of therapy after dinner. It’ll get us out of the Dillon-Simian game night.”
Agreed.
I started to put the cap back on the pen when a chill ran down my spine. I spun around, and suddenly I was on my feet. I didn’t remember executing the remedial movements required to get to my feet, but suddenly I was on them. The windows all opened on their own and the curtains whipped into the room, wildly fluttering on the wind. The glass started to turn white from the layer of frost that started to creep across the windows and mirrors. My breathing started to labor and it came out in frozen puffs past my lips.
“I want to play.”
The Damned of Lost Creek
Volume 2
The Mask of the Damned
Coming Soon
Copyright © 2016 Third Edition Geeks on Ink All Rights Reserved
Published by Geeks on Ink Publishing
This story is copyrighted and property rights of Danae Ayusso. This is for personal entertainment use only, any reselling, redistribution or publishing is strictly prohibited by law. This story may not be reproduced, distributed, modified or reposted to other websites.
Cover by Tom Burns
Stock Art from Deposit Photos
***~~~***
All characters and situations are fictional. Any similarities to an actual person or persons and situations are purely coincidental and rather impressive.
For more information about the series and the author please check out
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Table of Contents
Chapter One Anaconda, Montana
Chapter Two Welcome Home
Chapter Three Family Dinner
Chapter Four A Room of my Own
Chapter Five Lounge Lizards & The Alpha
Chapter Six Phone Home
Chapter Seven North Pasture
Chapter Eight Keep it in the Past
Chapter Nine Rave for Three
Chapter Ten Therapy in the Woods
Chapter Eleven Shopping with Daddy
Chapter Twelve One on One
Chapter Thirteen Delusions Aren’t Harmless
Chapter Fourteen Breakfast of Champions
Chapter Fifteen Daddy’s Demons – Mikhail’s Companions
Chapter Sixteen High School Intake
Chapter Seventeen Rationality Eludes Me
Chapter Eighteen Ausländischer Studentin
Chapter Nineteen First Train West
Chapter Twenty Daddy & His Demons