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Novel By: Carlet la Lovecraft

Obviously, love does not come from spectrum and spectrum cannot illustrate passion or feeling. Who dares to say such righteous degree of conviction? It is unclear who has said that, but the injurious point is senseless to follow; however, this is the message of this story, Mr. Devil Goes to California. A matter-of-factness about this young devil man whose experience goes beyond from the excavate meaning of passion and love. The young lord isn't boasting or condescending what he is; he simply states his persona laying out his conspicuous curiosity. Is this a teen's perception? Yes! It is, and it's good, because it addresses the curiosity as part of discovery and the discovery is the foundation of a quest that shine love and the exclusive feeling of the soul. In addition to these, this story can light all what is not exclusive and bring up for the meaning a exculpate mass of humans who do not believe that love is so powerful and that it can be replaced by the conversational delivery or the endeavor to do it. So here is Mr. Devil Goes to California. I hope you will like it. Otherwise tell me where I went wrong.

Carlet la Lovecraft

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Submitted:Dec 12, 2008    Reads: 119    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   

The House Devils

Chapter 1

Mr. Devil Goes to California

The Wintry Vista of Hell City was 20000 millions of lights when the stapled hybrid car landed at DuBois Valley three miles from Galaxy Driver. It was nearly three. The skyline and the edges of the surreptitious small island that is surrounding by the Prix Master and is facing the panoramic ways. Moving along through the pools of stars, far below, you can see the tallest buildings and avenues. They are sophisticated tunnels that are connected to the main veins of the city and its suburbs with its air-waved carriages running above the electromagnetic lines from the Venus City to the Gama shops, which can be pictured as the commercial areas.

Upon the bridge the sun spurs beautifully through the fleshed clouds, catching the eyes of a hungry mood of exotic birds. Then, somewhere, with great admiration, a jet crosses the astronomical space and disappears through the Angstrom avenues.

Moving along with the jet, with realistic precision, we can see it enters into the snapshot of light waves or traffic lanes. Then, far distance, in front of it, there is a mansion, surrounding by those enormous trees and waterfalls as if they are attached to their energy of the waves. Watery cascades per seconds seem to be suspended; then they fall by a controlled measurer. The water finally go down into a stream of blue and stones depth. As the jet tilts down, the mansion is closer now, magnificent. There is nothing to hold just as the jet begins to lose altitude.

Through the Mansion and Summer Room the voice of Dion & The Belmonts is heard. Along the enormous hallway figurines made of glass and porcelain appear to reflect themselves against the lazy-leafed floor. For a moment there is the sound of the singer Dion & The Belmonts, A Teenager in Love and the quietness of this strange beauty of stones and birds across the large pathway. Then after a minute or two, a dignified young man appears above the rampart and walks down to a wide corridor door. He is slender, athletic, quite well looking young man, with long black hair, who is wearing a Mcdonald short-sleeved one-bottom shirt and a coastal gauze pull-on pant. Young Lord, in his earlier 40000 thousand years old of age, seems to worry about something.

He crosses the huge waiting room and comes into a windy room, yet loaded with daisies and roses. He sits around a table and lifts up a very latest Los Angeles Times newspaper and opens on an Article about fashion Biz, 'How To Be A Glamour'. From the flowery acres of tiny fishes, and gardens, and pearls, and glassy walls, a very beautiful young maid makes her appearance. She carries herself gratefully, who is carrying a tray. Long blond hair, wealthy body, wearing a designed long dress. She moves through the corridor into the windy room and comes up next to the table. Elegantly, she deposits down the warm mud in front of him.

"Good afternoon, Master." Melody says. "Here's your cappuccino."

"Oh, thank you, Melody!"

She steps back, full aware of him. "Anything else, sir?"

A few glances, then the young man hesitantly thinks what he has in his mind. "Would you consider these strands of glass could make me more masculine, Mel? It's stunning what the earthy creatures could do to be beautiful!"

She does not reply right away, but she walks calmly past the table and turns around as she takes a look at what he is reading. "Few people will see the difference, except if someone will be made it as an example what you referred to."

His eyes are again on the Article as an oddly thought is still in a contempt. Or is it just the things with potential of such failure to know what he wants. "I guess so. But there is something that cannot fix what I've said. If that is your final answer, isn't it?"

She turns and looks at him, confused. "Is there something I've said that's caused you to reply in a different way, Master?"

He swings himself and looks at the sky vista and laughs noisily. "Of course not! But I've to think of it, I like this earthy things and I am ready to step on it!" he replies as he turns the paper.

Article #2. Young Lord reads about the high rate of the houses. Article #3 about Economy, then corruptions, abuses, and finally about killings. "Oh! How a charm!"

Article #4. Young Lord reads about the story of a magnate named Robertson, whose older son was killed by an unknown man in Robertson Building's who at the same time he was left unconscious. The story goes like this: After a last struggling to control the vast financial of Robertson, Inc, as well as the hope to recover Robertson's memory, the team lawyers have decided that the younger son will be the new boss to handle the affairs of Robertson's empire. However, with the promise not to tell his identity, an executive of Robertson, Inc., has said that there was too many gaps what his son Roger has told to them. As seems likely, he obviously doubts what really happened that day.

From here to Article #5 it goes into speculations.

Looks at the picture of Robertson's dead son. "Oh!" Calling up his servant. "Melody, tell me if this face isn't like me.

Melody's eyes up, indicating.

At this moment from upstairs a dressed-up old man walking through the hall and into the spacious room as he moves along the widen space to the landing. The senior housekeeper named Hatton climbs the stairs slowly. Strong face, aglow-eyed, and right-handed man.

"My lord, your father's claiming your presence in the study room. He would like to speak with you before dinner."

Below, the young man turns and looks at Melody, who has bowed toward him.

"Perhaps, he already has read my mind."

Young Lord gets up and walks out of the windy room and up to the hall. He moves along the enormous lobby, passes the resting room and disappears through a door. In the study room there is a chronology passage of powerful personalities. From the death of Sir Duke of Devil XLXX to the present, following by a calendar of important feasts, and there is a paramount, indictment message through it. A figure turns and looks toward the open door. He is not the elusive, old devil portrait by flimsy literature or by the tongue-in-check tales; there are not horns across his forehead, but a livelode personality among the great lords who have survived through those years of undiminished struggles. Handsome, blue eyes, slender, 30 million-year-old of age, wearing black slacks and a voluminous layers of oversized ultimate poet's shirt, with shirred banded collar and faux gem buttons.

"Are you wishing to speak with me, father? If it is about my decision to visit the earth, I am quite sure you won't change my mind."

There is a pause. He holds the eyes on his primordial son. After a while, Mr. Devil moves toward a comfortable sofa.

"I doubt if it's necessary, son. You've already talked to me on that. But I just want to understand the reason behind it. As a critic moment, you must say."

"You heard me what I told to my servant Melody, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. Despite the fact that you may have encountered this situation many times before and silly when I pointed you out to our Glassy Wall."

His son looks at the chronology famed wall, as it is, and it has been told by his father by their rules, but Young Lord is still beholding it against a past. "Father, you're right. We already have spoken about that. Again, this is history and each phase from that has emerged but different. I don't doubt if it has been a great moment. But why me, father?"

"Because over this event only one of two choices remains what we are, son. What I try to tell you is, each one of them has the same day on the same calendar day. As it is shown daily to all our world, which is too pitiful to think of. That calendar day is our weakness."

They look at each other. Her son is half smiling.

"Oh, father, that was a preliminary stuff because no one couldn't destroy us. "

"I see. Well, perhaps we should go over it more thoroughly. But it's very important to understand. I just want to say to you that. You will be the one who will replace me when my day arrives. Now, you cannot go the earth."

"Daddy, I'll be there for you. Please, give me your bless."

The intercom buzzer sounds. Mr. Devil flips a switch.


"Sir, the dinner is served," Hatton servant says.

"Thank you, dear friend," he says. He looks at his son. He hesitates. After a moment, he gets up and begins to walks toward the door.


"We must speak it after dinner, son. Please forgive me. But my answer to your last request is no. However, you're allow to speak about it anytime you wish."

"But, father...!"

"They're waiting for us, son."

As he considers him, but he can't help to look straight into his eyes. He admires the respectful approach his son has taken.

"Will you forgive me for what I've just said, father?"

"It's all right, son. It's all right."

He turns and leaves the room.


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