Walking Blind

PIW Massacre
July 20, 2002

Sharc Conan stumbled his way along the corridor. It was PIW’s third showing since returning to television. It was the third show where no doubt that lanky, tough man wannabe Sharc would get in his way. His eyes were barely open, a sign of his distinct tiredness.

2:03am

3:03am

4:03am

5:03am

Hour after damn hour the blasted satanic phone would ring. The eerie sound of silence, yet it was so loud. He would cover his eardrums trying to block out the dreaded cries of nothingness. To say the least it was getting to him.

How much can one man take?

Not a full nights sleep since last Saturday and the night of Massacre. He knew it was Sharc though. Sharc a name that now filled the wee man with fear…with dread….with anger. The next person who said his name would not know what hit him.

The Leprechaun was about to explode like a rabid dog.

He opened his locker room door. The rooms so dull…so empty…yet a safe haven for now. So lifeless the room was, just lockers a small table and the showers.

Conan decided it was time to cleanse, try and remove Sharcs aura from his body.

He toweled off, blowing his hair dry, putting his clothes back on and moving back in to the empty room. Things were not exactly how they were. A small package was laid on the table accompanied with a white envelope. He moved over to the corner of the room, he wasn’t sure wether to open the package or not. He lowered himself in the corner, head in hand and sat in a state of uncontrollable shivering.

NEXT CHAPTER: Ransom Note >>