Episode #30: Stories from the Archives: "Blood, Stone, and Shadow (The Broomwood Saga) Chapter 1"

Tonight's "Stories from the Archives" brings you a new series: The Broomwood Saga: Blood, Stone, and Shadow Chapter 1.

This is a Dark Romantasy series (and slightly smutty at times), something a little different from my 667: Children of the Beast series. But don't worry, you will be getting more 667 and this new series as well as others as I roll along. I know it's hard for a lot of us to find time to sit down and read a book, so now you can listen to what I have to offer with my worlds.

Synopsis for Blood, Stone, and Shadow:

(This is a serial series. Books are episodic.)

I thought I was just another basic witch in New York City trying to establish myself as an occult business owner, but I never realized just how wrong I'd be...

Even though I grew up in England, New York City was my family's home and when my Nan took ill, I moved back to be with her, inheriting the family brownstone when she passed. One of my dreams was to open up my own witchcraft store, Broom Hollow Apothecary, along with my best friend Sabrina, but things were never as simple as that.
I was unaware that the city was full of more than just your average human and I was part of a lineage that helped protect those that were forced to live in the shadows of human kind.
My life was about to change in the most unbelievable of ways and I had to decide on whether or not I wanted to be part of my ancestor's story or continue to just be another witch in New York City.
Little did I know that I really wouldn't have a choice.

You can also read this Blood, Stone, and Shadow in its entirety (as well as the next 4 episodes with more coming) on my Inkitt at Inkitt.com/emmoon

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Transcript

“We open in ten!” I called out from the register as I made sure the till was set and we were ready for business.

I heard Sabrina call out to me from the back room, “I’m almost done. Just a little mood lighting and a little lipstick.” 

“And a little curling iron, and a little outfit change, and a little latte.” I muttered under my breath as I shut the till and rearranged my business card stand a few times.

“I can hear you, Briar! I already did all that, so stuff it.” Apparently, Sabrina had heard me and I let out a laugh.

“Good, because I am going to finish setting up these cauldron cookies and then I’m opening the door.” I responded, rounding the counter to add the last few cookies from Doug’s Donuts onto our free Opening Day cookie display.

When I finished, I grabbed the bubble machine off the window sill near the shop door and plugged it in before I took it outside and set it on a table on the sidewalk, flicking it on to attract customers.

“And we’re officially open.” I breathed to myself as I turned the sign hung over the window from CLOSED to OPEN.

It had been a long time coming opening my shop, Broom Hollow Apothecary. I tried to be careful with what I inherited from my nan, and I had always wanted to do something like this if I ever got the chance. It took a lot of planning, a ton of renovating, and a little loan, but I got there. And of course Sabrina was along for the whole ride.

“How do you feel? Is it like you’re living a dream?” Sabrina asked me from behind the front counter when I walked back in the shop.

I shrugged slightly, “I don’t know if it’s quite hit me yet. If we’re being honest, I’m a little anxious, but I’ll make it.”

I mindlessly walked over to one of the product displays and started rearranging things as I spoke.

“You have fiddled with that table at least five times this morning as well as the crystal cubbies, the bookshelves, and every other display in here. Everything looks perfect; leave it be.” Sabrina mothered me for a moment before a smile spread across her face, “How about I run down to the Breakfast Bean and grab us some more coffee and one of those danish things you like?”

I chuckled, “Already trying to get out of work, Brina?”

“Really? I’m doing a nice thing for you and all you can think about is me slacking off?” Sabrina scoffed before she gave me a wink, grabbed her purse from behind the counter, and told me she would be back before a customer even had a chance to catch the bubbles on the sidewalk. 

Of course she jinxed me, because not but two minutes after she left, a group of twenty-something women came in and immediately started man-handling the crystal tumbles and decimating the incense display looking for what they wanted. 

“Can I help you all find anything?” I asked as nicely as I could, watching them mess up all my hard work.

“Actually, do you have any of that smudge stuff? My loft has just bee—funky and a friend suggested I smudge and buy some crystals to clear the energy.” One of the woman asked, coming to the counter.

“Oh, you want stuff for smoke cleansing. I carry mugwort, juniper, and cedar wands over there and then as far as crystals for clearing energy, I’d suggest onyx, smoky quartz, amethyst, tourmaline, and selenite; but you can choose what resonates with you.” I replied cheerfully with a smile.

“Got any dream catchers?” Another woman asked and then another added, “Or voodoo dolls? I want to give my ex and his new girlfriend a little poke.”

“No and no. My shop specializes more in “olde world” European witchcraft, I guess you could say. If I were you, I would only buy those sorts of tools from actual practitioners of those cultures.” I suggested, making it known that I wasn’t that type of metaphysical shop.

 “Oh, well, we can still grab a few things and then head on over to Namaste in Brooklyn. The lady there always has cool woo woo stuff.” One of them spoke to the others, mostly disregarding what I said.

 They went back to their whirlwind shopping spree and eventually came back to the counter with a cedar wand, a couple tumbled quartz, some Love Me incense cones, and a black penis shaped candle.

 “I figured I could use this instead of the voodoo doll.” One giggled as she scooted the penis candle closer to me.

 I tried to be professional and not laugh as I rang them up and gave them their total.

 “Thirty-two seventy-eight. And feel free to take a cookie from over there. We ordered them custom from Doug’s Donuts for our opening day.” I smiled as the group gathered their cash and then handed me a wad of ones and stacked quarters.

 “They’re so cute, oh my God. Look, Lindsey, it’s a little cauldron.” One gushed over the cookie she had chosen from the display, wrapped up in cellophane stamped with our shop logo in sealing wax.

 “This one is a frog! And look at the witch hat.” Another exclaimed and even another started going on about the cute black cat head with a silver thirteen on its forehead.

 “Doug’s is seriously the best. Great food, better pastries, and fantastic customer service. You can take one of their cards from there.” I pointed out the little card holder on the display before I wrapped their purchase and placed it in a kraft paper bag.

 “Tanya, you should go to them for your bachelorette cookies. We can use Lindsey’s penis candle for reference.” One of them laughed and yet again, I had to stifle one of my own.

 After each one of them had picked out a cookie and taken their bag, they thanked me quite happily and said they would be returning for more anatomical candles before they left the store and I sat back in a daze.

 I was actually doing this. I had actually made this happen. If it wasn’t for my grandmother, I would have still been alone in Wood Hollow just outside of Sussex in England, trying to scrape by and finish school. Granted, my reunion with my grandmother was less than joyous because it came with the knowledge that she was sick and possibly dying. There hadn’t been a lot of contact with her the last few years, but I suppose that was my fault—I was mad at her. 

 But that wasn’t something I wanted to think about. I wanted to focus on the shop and become a thriving business so I could go back to school for Cultural Anthropology with an emphasis on folklore, at least that was my plan anyway. I don’t know why, but I had this need to understand what caused the cultures of our past to develop the mythologies and folk stories that shaped them for centuries. I guess it had something to do with where I grew up and the stories my mother had always told me about our history. It was all just that, stories, but the development of them had always intrigued me.

 How that led me to a business degree probably had something to do with the fact that I was going to a city college with very basic majors and had little to no money. That double income that helped us survive went away when my mother disappeared…

 “So, I got you a caramel latte and a strawberry cream cheese danish, and for me I got a triple shot machiatto and one of these cute little egg cups.” Sabrina came in the door already in conversation as she carried her purchases over to the counter and set them down, passing me my coffee.

 “You’re the bee’s knees, Brina.” I thanked her in my own way as I pinched off a piece of danish and popped it in my mouth.

She glared at me playfully over her coffee cup as she replied, “You see, it’s using phrases like that unironically why you don’t have a boyfriend.”

 “Don’t remind me. Besides, I have you and you are just as annoying as any boyfriend could be.” I poked in jest and she frowned at me.

 “You need to get laid.” She rolled her eyes at me before she passed me with a hip check and went to start reorganizing the shelves that had been messed.

 “I don’t think that would help, honestly.” I replied, and I wasn’t joking.

 Sabrina let out a laugh, “Well, it sure as hell would help me. But Carlos and I aren’t really on speaking terms at the moment.”

 She went on to detail her current relationship woes with me and I felt for her, but she did have a tendency to date men that just weren’t boyfriend material in my opinion. It actually made me worry about her more than she knew.

 I then told her about our first customers of the day and the penis candle we sold, we got a good laugh, and then decided to talk business for a bit before the next customer came in and we got a little busy.

 For our first day, we ended having quite a few patrons come in and made enough sales to make it worth being open. There were left-over Doug’s Cookies, of which I sent Sabrina home with a few, and I saved the rest for day two before I locked the door behind my best friend, turned off all the lights in the shop, and set the alarm I had put in only a week ago.

 The shop occupied the street level floor of an old brownstone. We had a basement that opened up into the back alley, and two upper levels. My grandmother had lived here since she was young, her family owning it, and as she got older, she closed off a few areas of the building and turned one area into a two level apartment. The upper level had been my mother’s space growing up while my grandmother and grandfather occupied the second floor. The main floor that was now the apothecary had once been a general store that turned into an antique shop and then sat vacant for almost twenty years.

 Now, the whole place was mine and I had tried to make it my own by adding my personal touch to the decorating and a couple new furniture pieces; everything else was my nan and mum’s. Not only did I inherit the brownstone and all its contents when my nan died, but I also inherited her fluffy grey tabby, Katastrophe. She was still on the younger side, but very much her own person. That wasn’t to say that she didn’t adore me and basically adopt me after my nan’s passing.

 “Yes, yes. I know you’re hungry. Let me just get these boots off and change my clothes and we can have dinner.” I spoke to Katastrophe as if she were a human roommate, once I walked into the upstairs flat. Language barrier or not, she understood me.

 I padded up the spiral staircase to the top level, my room, and stripped myself of what I called business attire, before I slipped on a pair of red plaid shorts and an old comic book tee.

 “Salmon bumps coming your way.” I called out to the cat as I slid into the kitchen and pulled the bag of cat food from a cabinet by the sink. I gave the fur-ball a scoop in her bowl and fresh water in her dish before she hopped up to her spot on a low table next to the bar in the kitchen and started to eat.

 I grabbed myself a cold slice of pizza from last night’s dinner and sat down on the sofa in the living room, turning on the television to find something to watch while I relaxed. The first thing that came on was the city news and I might have just switched past it had I not heard the snippet of what was being said.

 “New York City’s New Age shops are being hit hard by an unknown burglar the people have dubbed “the Cookie Cutter” based on the circular shape cut from the glass of shop windows and doors. There have been a spree of these burglaries over the last couple weeks and no less than eight small businesses have been targeted. Police have currently opened an investigation into the break-ins and state that it doesn’t seem like anything has ever been taken, but shops are reporting damage to property. The NYC Police Department asks that if anyone has any information on these break-ins, to please contact their non-emergency line.” 

 “Of course. The day I open up and there’s a damn baking utensil running around the city trashing metaphysical shops. Cookie Cutter...wonder if this guy is super pissed about the name they chose for him.” I ranted to myself as I finally changed the channel and found a good movie to put on, one I had seen more times than I could count.

 I went and made myself something to drink, grabbed another slice of pizza, and settled into the sofa again, wrapped up in a thick, cozy blanket with the cat in my lap. I got so comfortable in fact, that after the movie ended, I didn’t want to get up to go to bed and just put on another one before I fell asleep.

 I woke up to the sound of the security alarm. It was this ear-splitting screech that had wormed its way into my dream as screams coming from my own mouth, so when I awoke, I was flailing about and flung the cat onto the coffee table as I vaulted off the sofa. The T.V. had gone dark and the only light was the one above the stove, so I could halfway see. But it took me just a little too long to register what I was hearing.

 “Someone is breaking in.” I finally breathed to myself, flying for the door to my apartment before I rushed down the stairs to street level.

 Here is where the control panel for the alarm system sat just inside the back hall door to the shop and I punched in the code, but I knew I was going to be getting a call from the police soon and needed to run back up the stairs for my phone. It was indeed ringing when I came through the door, but I had to fumble around in the dark and find it before I answered.

 “This is ABT security services, is everything alright, Ms. Broomwood. We were alerted by your alarm.”

 It was actually the alarm company.

 “Uh, I’m unsure. I was asleep and it woke me up.” I replied honestly, locking my front door.

 “Would you like us to send the police to your address?” The dispatcher asked.

 “Please. Just to be safe.”

 “We will do that now. Would you like to stay on the line till they arrive?” They asked one more question, but I thought I would be fine on my own.

 “I’m fine, thank you.”

 And then we hung up.

 But part of the reason I didn’t want to stay on the line with them was because I was sort of curious what the shop looked like. Had someone actually broken in or was it a fluke? Had they taken anything? I needed to know and despite there being possible danger, I left the apartment again to go investigate the apothecary.

 I unlocked the back entrance and opened it, unsure if I should flick a light on or not. Surely, if someone had broken in, the alarm would have scared them off and they wouldn’t just be hanging around to be arrested. So, I turned on the light to find no person, but a whole disaster. I didn’t have time to really take it all in and couldn’t see everything from my vantage point, but I thought it better not to enter the shop and disturb any potential evidence.

 I shut the door and locked it again, going back up the stairs to my flat for the third time that night, before I waited patiently on the sofa with the cat and the lights turned on. When I saw the blue lights flashing from the window, I put on my hoodie and went out through the fire escape to the street instead of walking through the shop.

 There were two police cars parked by the curb with their lights on and two officers standing by the front door of the building with their flashlights, peering through the glass.

 “Excuse me, officers.” I tried not to startle them, “I’m the one who called. Or my alarm company did.”

 Of course the two of them palmed their weapons with their free hand and shined their lights in my eyes, but they were just doing their jobs…

 “Can you please identify yourself, ma’am.” The shorter officer asked me as I stood still on the sidewalk.

 “Briar Broomwood. I have my ID.” I pointed at my hand before I held it up to them.

 One came to investigate and verify that I was indeed Briar Broomwood, owner of Broom Hollow Apothecary. After they were sure that I was who I claimed to be, they asked me for a recap of what happened and I detailed it as best I could, still in a little shock over my abrupt awakening.

 “You can have a seat here in the patrol car while we check inside. Do you have a key?” The taller officer asked and I tried not to roll my eyes.

 “If someone broke in, you won’t need it. If not, I can grab it from upstairs.” I responded, taking a seat in the open backseat of one of the cop cars.

 “Right, right. Let’s go check things out, Jacobs.” One cop suggested to the other as they went back to my front door before I heard Jacobs say something in a hushed tone.

 “There’s a circular piece cut out of the glass here. Looks like we could have another Cookie Cutter hit.”

 “Oh, lovely. Just lovely.” I muttered under my breath as I leaned forward on my knees and watched the officers open the door to the shop and then turn on the lights, each with their weapon drawn.

 They called out a couple times for anyone to show themselves as they entered the store and I just sat there waiting, feeling rather silly because to me, it was obvious that no one was there any longer, but the break-in needed to be documented. They disappeared inside and I set myself to waiting, albeit with impatience.

 “Everything alright over here?” A deep, masculine voice startled me and I fought the urge to hurl myself backwards into the car and slam the door shut; but then I would have been stuck.

 “Everything’s fine.” I responded, not even sure who I was talking to until I looked up to see a man standing by the boot of the car on the driver’s side.

 “They just left you out here?” He asked and I felt my heart begin to race.

It was obvious that I wasn’t a cop, but I was sitting in the back of one of their cars in nothing but my pajamas with no police in sight. 

 “I’m an escaped mental patient and they had to make a pit stop, so I’m having some personal time.” A not so jokey-joke came out my mouth instead of a real explanation. I was sort of scared because it was late and here was this guy walking down the street in the middle of the night in dark clothes with his hood up. I wanted him to think I was the dangerous one.

 “Ah, I see. Well, if they’re taking you to Bellevue, tell them I said hi.” He returned with a joke of his own, but my first response was to pull my feet into the car in case I had to quickly shut the door anyway.

 “Sure will.” I laughed nervously before the man finally responded with something that had me relaxing just a bit.

 “I’m sorry, that was—not my best joke. I was just making sure everything was alright down here because I saw the cop lights on my way to the corner store and you just sitting there by yourself.”

 “Not my best either. But I’m okay. There may have been a break-in, but they’re checking to see if the coast is clear.” I relaxed a little as I spoke, the man stepping just a bit closer to me.

 “But you’re okay, though?” He checked on me and I thought it a tad odd that a complete stranger was so concerned over my well-being.

 I nodded, “I’m fine. I little startled and awake, unfortunately, but I’m okay.”

 “Good, good. Well, hopefully the rest of your night is less stressful. Sorry, to bother you.” And before I could say anything else to him, he had turned around and continued on his journey down the street.

 I watched him go until he disappeared around the corner one street down and then I turned back to the shop to see the two officers exiting, weapons holstered and flashlights off.

 “Anything?” I queried, standing up from the backseat.

 Jacobs shook his head, “No, ma’am. Officer Nobles and I checked the whole main floor and found no person, but there is quite the mess. Is there anyway someone could have gotten to another part of the building?”

 “Nope. I checked the only other entrance to the shop since it sits at the bottom of my apartment steps and is where the alarm panel is. Everything was locked and in place there.” I informed them, stepping up on the sidewalk to glance through the window into the shop.

 It was indeed a total wreck, especially from this view.

 “We’ll make a report that there was a break-in, but most likely nothing was stolen and things were just torn up. You’re okay to go back inside.” Officer Nobles pointed at the door with his pen as he made a note on a notepad.

 “Did you check for fingerprints on the windows or the door or anything?” I questioned, thinking it odd if they hadn’t.

 This time Jacobs responded, “No, ma’am. It looks like it may be another Cookie Cutter break-in and there’s never any evidence like that left at the scene.”

 “But what if there is this time? Can’t you check?” I insisted. They weren’t doing their jobs at all.

 “We don’t have the proper equipment and would have to call a separate unit for that. If you want, you can file a report on the break-in yourself tomorrow and maybe they will send someone out. Just don’t touch anything until then.” Nobles answered and I had to bite my tongue lest I said something that could potentially get me arrested.

 “Sure. Sure thing.” I finally uttered, trying to dampen my anger at these complete and total inept civil service men.

 The two didn’t say another word after that as they got into their patrol cars and pulled away from the curb, driving off down the road and leaving me completely dumbfounded on the sidewalk in my socks at midnight. I knew there was nothing I could do at the moment, so I walked inside the shop to take a look around and assess the damage.

 My crystal display had been toppled over, scattering their glittery contents all across the old wooden floors. The jewelry displays were the same way, beaded stone bracelets tossed in all directions and my nicer necklaces made by local artists had all been thrown up onto the counter, a few now broken. Other areas had been rifled through and a couple tables had been flipped. The pendulums were all knotted and several had been cracked or broken to pieces. Obviously, I couldn’t tell just by looking if anything had been stolen, and an investigation like that would have to wait till I made a report the next morning; hopefully someone came down to actually do the work they were supposed to do.

 “This is bullshit.” I breathed to myself as I stepped over a scattering of crystals and made my way to the back room.

 Here is where the safe sat and I wondered if it had somehow been broken into, but it was completely intact and looked like it hadn’t even been touched. From what I could tell, the whole place looked like someone had broken in, caused complete chaos, and then fled.

 “They couldn’t have at least dusted for prints? Isn’t that standard?” I spoke aloud as I went back to the front door to investigate what I heard one officer mention.

 Indeed, there was a circular piece of glass cut out of the window on the door, that piece now shattered into a thousand shards just inside the threshold. It was maybe the diameter of a CD and perfectly circular as if someone had cut it with complete precision. From the looks of it, they cut the glass, popped out the piece, and stuck their arm through the door to unlock it. It was so simple and I felt so stupid that I hadn’t locked the deadbolt with my key.

 “Idiot.” I cursed at myself, shaking my head, before I turned to walk through the shop once more, when again, a voice startled me.

 My response was to grab the thing closest to me as a weapon, so I whirled around wielding a large statue of Hekate like a club, only to find that the voice belonged to someone I had already spoken to tonight.

 “Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me.” I responded breathlessly, the statue still held out in front of me using both hands.

 “Whoa, I’m sorry. Sorry. I’m really not making a great first impression.” He laughed nervously as he held his hands out in front of him.

 “Or second,” I muttered, lowering the statue a bit before I raised the volume of my voice, “What are you doing?”

 “Just got back from the store and saw that the lights were on and the door was open, but nobody was around. Again, just trying to be a good neighbor and failing miserably.” He replied, finally lowering the hood on his jacket.

 Now, able to see his face, I was stunned.

 This man was gorgeous and now that I got a good look at the rest of him, he was like one of those men you see on the cover of a smutty romance novel. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and fairly muscular, but not so much that he looked like one of those New York City gym bros. His complexion was ruddy but smooth, a five o’ clock shadow present on his angular jaw. His eyes were such a pale grey that I was almost hypnotized by their color, their dark lashes making them look even more ethereal. And the hair really had me fucked up—shaved on one side while the bulk of his thick, dark, wavy tresses hung over the opposite side, partially covering his face.

 “I’m sorry,” I finally came back to my senses and spoke softly, “You are being a really good neighbor. I’m just on edge and then those damn cops can’t even do their jobs right. It’s just been an eventful day.”

 “I can understand that and I in no way want to make it too eventful for you. I probably should have come and introduced myself when I finally moved in a week ago.” He replied, taking a few steps forward into the shop.

 “How close are you?” I asked, feeling myself take a few steps closer to him.

 “Up this way about two buildings on the other side of the street.” He pointed north as he spoke.

 I knew what building he was talking about; it was a tenant house, a very rundown tenant house. Or at least it had been. It seemed like renovations had started though, over six months ago, and I guess they had finished and I never noticed.

 “Oh, so you weren’t kidding when you said you could see the police lights.” I commented. I mean, I didn’t think he was necessarily lying to me, but I didn’t know how truthful he was either.

 “Nope, not kidding.” He shook his head with a smile, one that had me smiling back, “My name is Cian by the way. Cian Murphy.”

 “I’m Briar. Briar Broomwood.” I introduced myself, awkwardly standing there as I wondered if I should extend my hand for a shake or not.

 “It’s nice to meet you, Briar. That’s a beautiful name.” He complimented me and I felt myself blush.

 “Thank you. And Cian—that’s Irish, right?” I replied, trying not to trip over my tongue.

 “I thought the Murphy might be a dead giveaway.” He joked with a laugh and I suddenly felt embarrassed because I knew better and it was very obvious. 

 “Shoulda been, huh?” I returned, laughing at myself, “Not my best night.”

 His smile faded to a look of curiosity as he eyed me with those moon colored eyes and then asked, “Where are you from? Your accent is really unique.”

 I figured eventually he would ask. I did have a really interesting accent and I attributed it to the fact that my obsession with other places, cultures, and folklore, led to a love of accents too. My brain had then trained itself to pick up on whatever ones were around me and to emulate them. 

 My mother thought it was a cute quirk of mine, especially because she had a fairly thick, northern American accent but we had lived in England my whole life and I never really knew my father. That meant that the majority of the conversations I had growing up were with my New Yorker mum and my English classmates and teachers. For whatever reason, my brain mixed the two together and formed its own accent that had a tendency to switch between the two, usually coming out sounding strange to whoever heard it. People had a hard time placing where I was from for that reason. 

 “I was born in Sussex, England, but my family is from New York. Somehow, I got a little bit of both and what you hear is the terrible result.” I made fun of myself and immediately got embarrassed all over again. 

 “Well, I like it. I couldn’t really tell earlier because you were upset, but now that I hear it—it’s definitely nice.” Cian complimented me again and I had to stick my tongue in my cheek not to smile like a goofy idiot.

 “Thank you.” I spoke quietly, suddenly being incredibly aware of my state of dress and what my hair probably looked like and—this was just awful.

 “I can fix this.” Cian popped my self-criticizing thought bubble and I looked over to see him crouched down by the front door.

 “I gotta get things fingerprinted first. The cops did nothing but check to see if someone was in here and when there wasn’t, they left. Said it looks like a Cookie Cutter hit and the guy never leaves any evidence.” I found myself explaining things too much instead of thanking my neighbor for his offer.

 “No rush; whenever you get things worked out. And that’s complete and total bullshit, but that’s what to expect with the cops around here, unfortunately. Are you going to file a report?” Cian replied, standing up from his crouched position.

 “Tomorrow. Can’t open up shop until I do anyway. Opening day might be my last day for a bit.” I sighed, finally setting down the statue on a nearby table as I watched Cian take a good look at everything around me. 

 “Nah, it won’t be your last. I’d be happy to help you get this window pane replaced and installed and I’ll even help you clean up in here if you need.” He offered and I wondered what ulterior motive he had; no one was that nice.

 “That’s so sweet of you to offer and I just may take you up on that once I figure out what can be done here.” I thanked him and watched as he stepped closer to me, now looking down at me under that wave of hair.

 “Seriously, Briar...if you need anything, I’m just right up the street. It’s always good to get to know and trust your neighbors. Community is key.” He spoke down to me, the shape of his lips as he formed every word, mesmerizing me.

 I nodded slowly, almost like I was in a trance, “I couldn’t agree more. Thank you.”

 “Well, I’m going to let you try and get some rest. When you’re ready, I’m willing and at your service.” His words were almost husky as he ushered towards the door, gave me a one-sided smile, and then turned to leave.

 All I could do was let out a small “uh, huh” before he left and was on his way back to his building. I shut the door carefully with the sleeve of my hoodie and made sure to lock everything up tight before I set the alarm again and locked the back door; I was scared whoever had done this might come back, no matter how irrational the notion.

 I just wanted to try and get some sleep so I could wake up early enough to get to the police station and give them a piece of my mind.