THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SEXUAL SCENES WHICH LIKE EVERY OTHER PART OF THIS BOOK, WILL BE WRITTEN IN DETAILS. THIS MIGHT NOT GO WELL WITH SOME PEOPLE AND THAT'S WHY I'M SAYING IT HERE—AS A WARNING. FOR THOSE WHO AREN'T COMFORTABLE READING STUFFS LIKE THAT, I'LL BE WARNING Y'ALL BEFORE IT STARTS AND WHEN IT ENDS SO THAT YOU CAN SKIP IT.
It was Saturday—the first weekend after a long, intense week of too many lectures that spanned for five days. Slowly but quite steadily, the new students of Golden Lake University veered from one group of friends to others, broke apart; the same way the continents had split and drifted away from each other ages ago, and formed—and were still forming, too, cliques based on identical interests and selfsame dislikes.
One of the ‘groups’ that had managed to survive the first week perhaps because they were fettered by something thicker than mere passions or a common disgust and hatred, was that of Harold, Trisha and WiTrisha clicked the library's door shut behind her which caused the muffles and grunts that had come from the library's interior to decrease to the same grade it had been on when she was about going in. She sighed wearily as she walked away from the door—and messy noises of pleasure.It was still early in the morning and the sun was just soaring over the firs and towards the peaceful blue of the clouds—and gliding birds, as it dispersed its warmth on Golden Lake University, but Trisha was as tired as a mountaineer who had scrambled her way up Mount Everest and Kilimanjaro in a day. It wasn't the episode that had played before her retina minutes ago that caused her to be fatigued. It was a compilation of all the events that had happened since she'd gotten to Golden Lake; Wilkes attempted murder. Catherine's disappearance. The Underground Cavern. Harold's letter. Francis Journal. Mrs. Perry's ...They were all taking thei
Harold's sneakers touched the earth of the underground cavern with a mild thump that echoed through the cave as he jumped off the second-to-the-last step of the ladder. Trisha dropped down seconds later and after her came Wilkes who had his flashlight clasped between his white teeth as he sunk lower; his fingers hugging the ladder as he did.“I daresay this place is more odd than you made me think it was, Harold,” Trisha said as she shawled her arms round herself to generate—and conserve body heat. She swung her torch around in bewilderment and for a split second, the white light that emitted from her torch landed on the cave's roof which was garnished with shrewd stalactites.Harold hadn't been able to see much the last time he was there because of the darkness that sheathed the cave so he was just as naive about the cave as the other two were.He turned on his flashlight and its magnificent beam diffused and was only restri
*THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GORE (AND PERHAPS, HORROR). I FEEL IT IS IMPORTANT FOR EVERYONE THAT WANTS TO ENJOY THIS BOOK TO READ THAT PART, SO HERE Y'ALL GO...*When the trio turned around to run up the ladder to escape the horrid howls that echoed louder and louder with each passing second in the dreary tunnel, Wilkes was at the front; a victim of circumstance, Trisha was pressed in the middle and behind her was Harold who was hastening behind them as fast as his legs could work.They panted as they sped down the strange cavern but didn't stop for a split second. Their faint flashlights swayed left and right—in their pallid hands with a beam as faint as that of a faraway lighthouse. They needed no diviner or soothsayer to tell them that they'll all be completely off in a matter of minutes.“Turn off your torches!” Wilkes shouted. His voice echoed in
Trisha bent her head over her knees and let her hair fall over her face as she sighed in relief. The peace that washed over her and soothed her every atom as the shadows began to sink deeper into the cavern was short lived when she thought of Harold—and what had become of him.She stood up with all the strength she could muster when she was convinced that they had all gone, pushed her wand into her cardigan, flicked on her almost useless flashlight and jogged to where Harold's numb body was. As she dropped down on her knees while shining the flashlight's beam on his thigh which was way too white—almost silvery, Wilkes appeared beside her but she didn't flinch. Her eyes were fixed on the blood-drenched trouser he had on.“We need to get out of here,” he whispered, not wanting to attract the shadows again as he knelt on Harold's other side. “I have a feeling they'll be back soon.”“H
The students of Golden Lake University began trooping into the university's largest hall with frowns on their faces, murmurs and grumbles escaping their lips, and ear-itching scrapes and shuffles emerging from their feet as though they were literally being dragged along.So far, all the days spent in the University were in one word, ‘perfect’ and the students just didn't seem to have gotten enough of it. That Saturday, too, wasn't an exception and had there been pastels—or crayons, drawing boards, and an utterly silent environ with the wind hissing and blowing green grass while birds chirruped from the top of trees, too, an artist was sure to limn a first-rate and world class drawing thanks to the unfiltered and spotless inspiration that'll diffuse through his skin's pores and deeper—to his core as he held pencil firmly in the flap of his ear.It was such a fine day with the glorious sun positioned in the very middle among the soft, feat
“We need to take a look at the poem, Harold,” Trisha said with a sense of urgency in her voice. Her face held a scowl of worry as they burrowed through the clusters of students who were prattling and conversing about the contest—a few betting and speculating on who was going to win, as they hurried away from the auditorium.The heated ‘disk’ in the sky hung right above them, showering its fiery brilliance on the middle of their heads making their dark shadows which was spread on the asphalt the size of lilliputians.“What poem?” Chloe asked with confusion etched in her eyes. She was dressed in all green; the kind of green one could only find amongst artificial flowers and it made her reddish brown pupils stand out.The four of them continued walking to nowhere in particular in silence after Chloe asked them the question with the warm afternoon breeze sweeping their toes as they strode on.“I'm not wanted here, I gue
“What's taking him so long?” Trisha asked, picking up a smoothened pebble from its cluster—on the ground, and throwing it weakly onto the graveled asphalt that spread out in front of them; a route for Golden Lake's professors to drive past to their offices—in their cars.“I can't tell but our dorm is not too close to here, so of course, it'll take him some time.” Wilkes said. He turned his left wrist to its fore side; the part that concealed his veins, and stared at his black wristwatch that was given to him by his mother on her deathbed; “Many say that time waits for no man, but in reality, we are the ones going. Time waits. It always has and always will.” That had been her last words before pushing the watch into his trembling hands.“He's been gone for a little over nine minutes,” he said still peering down on the wristwatch that was strapped to his wrist and in response, he got a nod from Trisha who pushed her glasses up her nose for
“Why will he write that to us—to me?” Harold said, looking at the dark smears that crisscrossed the poorly torn sheet of paper that was clutched in Trisha's fingers. It stunk of engine oil; the kind that had seen better days in the engines of vehicles.Their gazes fell ahead of them as though they hadn't heard Harold and onto the asphalt which was beginning to darken as a chunk of white cloud slid beneath the sun for seconds before coming out on the other side, as radiant and hot as before.None of them had a theory to answer what Harold had asked hence, they had shifted their attention to two snowy gulls that flew after the other with occasional hoots into the bluish clouds.“Do you think Chloe knows about this?” Wilkes said suddenly. “She might tell us something.”“I doubt it. Wasn't she asking us what poem we were talking about half an hour —”“Guys!” Trisha said loudly, breaking off Harold and Girard