Chapter 1: The Man in the Darkness, Chapter One

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

Reads: 2583
Comments: 20

He knew he was drunk when he tried to take a pull on the cigarette. His lips were numb. His whole face was numb. He tried to remember how many beers he’d had.

Who cared? He carefully lifted the glass, tipped it back until the last of the amber liquid was gone. He gestured to the bartender.

The guy laughed at him. “No, I’m cutting you off.”

“I want another.” His voice hurt his eardrums.

The bouncer seemed to appear out of nowhere. “You look kinda young, buddy.”

“I checked his ID,” said the bartender. “He’s twenty-one.”

“Let me see it,” said the bouncer. He towered over the kid, beefy arms crossed over a chest like a horse. “I don’t think he is.”

“I’m twenty-one,” the kid snarled. “I’ve been here before.”

“Show me your ID.”

He grumbled, reached into his wallet. “Here, you happy?”

The bouncer held it up to the light, peered at it a long time. Then he studied the kid. “This is not your picture,” he said finally.

“It is my picture. That’s me.” The words slurred in his mouth. He could see the bouncer didn’t believe him. Infuriated, he snatched at the ID card. The bouncer yanked it out of his reach. The kid stumbled from the chair, faced the huge man eye to eye.

He lunged for it, but he ended up slamming his knuckles against the bouncer’s nose. The man just laughed. “You punched me, buddy. I’m calling the cops now.”

He went from infuriated to enraged. “Punch you? This is how it would feel if I punched you.” He hit the man again, but the guy just stood there, looking bored. If he’d been sober, he thought, that jerk would’ve been on the floor. He glared around him. People had started backing away, muttering and pointing. “Aw,” he picked up his barstool. “You want a show, folks?” He turned and heaved the chair out the window behind him.

He was leaning on the commode when the cell door opened. “Your uncle’s here to get you,” announced the cop. A middle-aged man stood behind the officer, looking sad and tired.

He gave the older man a look of pure hate. “You.”

“Hey, he didn’t have to show up. Give the guy some respect, huh?” The cop didn’t see the old man’s face change. But the boy saw it. A gleam of pure triumph…


Chapter 1

A rough cushion pushed up at her jaw, twisting her neck. She tried to open her eyes but the light burned. The cushion smelled terrible—cigarette smoke and stale beer. She shoved it onto the floor, and her head fell to the couch. A wave of nausea rolled over her. Her throat tightened; she clenched her teeth and swallowed hard. Only after the gagging feeling eased did she open her eyes again, slowly, bracing herself for daylight.

Where was she? This was not her room, not her home. The dirty brown couch she lay on, the coffee table with its ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts and gum wrappers—these were foreign.

Another, more pleasant smell slowly entered her consciousness. Coffee. Then she heard it begin to gurgle somewhere behind her. She was not alone, then.

This must be Dorrie’s house. Dorrie, who had told her Long Island Iced Tea was the greatest drink ever created—“You’ve never had one? You’re kidding, right? Well, you gotta try this!” It really had been good. And Dorrie had pushed her to have another, then just one more…

She tried to remember, but there was nothing after that third drink. What had happened? Where was she? How long had she been here? Specks of bright sunlight shot through the heavy brown curtains. It must be late morning, maybe pushing noon.

She turned over slowly, sat up as she glared over the back of the couch. Dorrie was getting a piece of her mind. That stupid drunk…

The man leaning against the fridge with his eyes half-shut was most definitely not Dorrie.

She had never seen him before, and if she got out of here she hoped she would never see him again. He was lean and muscled, but the black t-shirt was faded and stained, torn at the neck. His dark hair hung over his ears and from there went every which way, and heavy stubble shadowed his face. He stared at the coffee pot as if he could will the steaming brown drops into the carafe. His jaw worked furiously, and she remembered the gum wrappers in the ashtray.

He turned to meet her stare. Dark eyes, bloodshot under heavy dark brows. The voiceover from America’s Most Wanted played in her head. “She was last seen with this man. If you see him, do not attempt to apprehend him yourself…”

“Who are you?” She had hoped to sound cool and unafraid. She knew she didn’t.

His voice rasped like he had just stumbled out of bed. “Lucas.” He did not offer a last name.

“Are you Dorrie’s brother or something?”

“I don’t know Dorrie.”

She glanced carefully to the right, to the door festooned with chain locks and a deadbolt. She might be able to beat him to the door, but she could never get it opened before he got there.

He spoke again. “Is she the girl you came to the club with?”

She started to nod, but stopped as sparks of agony lit up behind her eyes. Right now she couldn’t even beat him to the door.

He made a disgusted-sounding snort. “Some friend.” He leaned on the refrigerator. “You were drunk, she was drunk, then she left with some guy as smashed as she was.”

Dorrie had left her alone? How had she ended up with—this thing? She suddenly, passionately, hated Dorrie. “Then what?” she asked, afraid of the answer.

“You were looking pretty sick, so I was about to call the bartender to get you a ride home. You were trying to follow your friend, but some jerk took you by the arm and started pulling you out the door, so I went after you. He kinda looked like a dirtbag.” He looked at her as if expecting a response, but she said nothing.

“He pulled you into the alley. Do you remember any of this?”




He smiled tightly, looking down at the counter. “I sorta messed him up. When the cops find him they’ll wonder who did it.”

Terror, relief, disgust all fought for first place. Lucas No-Last-Name sounded like a common thug. Though he could have just walked away….she didn’t know whether to scream for help or not. “How messed up?”

“I didn’t kill him.” He looked back at the coffeemaker, just beginning its final gurgle. “I was explaining to him how nice men don’t hit on tipsy ladies, but then you started throwing up.” He turned to her again, grinned as he saw her face turn red. “So I dropped him and aimed you at the nearest trash can. You were talking, but you weren’t making any sense. I didn’t know what else to do with you, so I brought you here.” He gestured to the couch. “And I put you there,” he added firmly. “So you can stop thinking what you’re thinking.” He pulled a couple of mugs from the cabinet. “I’m not a serial killer, and I’m not a pervert. Want coffee?”

The carafe was filthy with coffee stains, but the smell seemed to be clearing her mind. If she got sick later, so be it. She nodded. “Please.”

“I’m out of milk. Sorry.”

She had never taken coffee black before, but there was no use being picky. “I’m Cassie.”

He sat down next to her, spat out his gum onto its wrapper. Folding it, he tossed it into the ashtray. “Please to meet you. Sorry about the gum.”

She took a sip of the steaming liquid. It was terrible.

He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “If anybody was expecting you home last night, you should probably call them.”

So far, part of her had felt like she must still be dreaming, but now the haze shattered. She nearly choked. “My mom! My mom’s gonna kill me!”

He nodded at the ceiling. “She probably will.”

“And she’s working today. She can’t come and get me.”

“You don’t have a car?”

“Dorrie drove us. I have to get back to Lisle. I need to call her. My mom, I mean.” The must-do’s were coming fast and furious now. “I have to work this afternoon. What time is it?”

“I think it’s noon.” He looked at her sideways. “Lisle?”

“Lisle. What?”

“What were you doing at a club on the West Side of Chicago at one o’clock in the morning?”

“Dorrie said—oh, forget it.” Cassie braced herself, then tossed back the rest of that vile coffee.

He shook his head. “Your pal Dorrie likes slumming, I guess.”

She pulled herself off the couch. And then that feeling came—she tried to hold it down, but, “Ah, Lucas…”

He was already hauling her through a doorway, into a bathroom. The seat was up, and he aimed her at it. He patted her on the back, closing the door as he left. “Lisle,” he muttered.

He was standing by the couch when she staggered back into the living room. “Maybe coffee wasn’t such a good idea.”

She felt humiliated. “I’m really not like this usually, I swear.”

“Hey, I’ve done it too.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Look, could you wear those clothes to work?”

She looked down at her jeans and sweater. “They reek from the smoke last night. And I need a shower and some make-up.”

“Well, I can’t help with the make-up, but if you want, you can use my shower. Don’t look like that, the door locks! And I can throw your stuff in the dryer with a dryer sheet so at least it won’t stink. Then I can run you to work. Your mom—just call her and tell her that you got sick at the club. Hey, it’s true. Then tell her you stayed over at your friend’s house and you were so sick you forgot to call. She’ll know you drank too much, but I think she’ll let it go till later, and you can beg for forgiveness then.”

Cassie scanned his face, searching for some hint of a leer. There was none.

She didn’t want to trust him. But at the moment, she didn’t see much of a choice. And she couldn’t find a flaw in his plan, not she felt particularly intelligent just then. Of course, if he’d wanted to harm her he’d have done it by now. She gulped a little, and nodded.

He had given her a green bathrobe, a new bar of soap, and a towel, and then stood outside the bathroom with a laundry basket to receive her clothes. Undressing in his bathroom felt creepy, and her skin crawled as she put on his robe.

But when she unlocked and opened the door, he didn’t even look at her. She jammed her clothing into the smallest wad she could manage and plunked it firmly into the basket. Still not looking, he nodded briefly and walked away. She shut and locked the door again, this time without the half-terrified sense of urgency. Well, first impressions aren’t always accurate, she thought as she turned the faucet.

He opened the dryer door and tossed in the clothes, except for the jeans. He dug around in the pockets until he’d found what he was looking for. He hadn’t dared to look last night. There was a chance she would remember in the morning. He held it up, smiled to himself tightly, put it in his pocket. Nobody needed to know about her, after all. He would handle this.

By the time Cassie stepped out of the shower, she had begun to actually feel alive. She toweled off fiercely to get the blood moving, then wrapped it around her hair, squeezing out the excess water. A comb lay by the sink. It looked clean, and it was the best she could hope for. She wiped the mist off the mirror.

Her gray eyes were bloodshot, and the pale lashes seemed invisible. The only thing that looked half-way decent was her hair. It was deep red, thick and long, nearly to her waist. She combed it back firmly, then pulled it into a neat braid. No band to put at the end of the tail, but she hoped it would at least stay braided long enough to dry without tangling.

She opened the door a few inches and peeked out. Her clothes were waiting in the laundry basket. She wished she could wear something else, but there was no help for it. Lucas was on the couch, watching TV. His jaw was working again. She silently pulled the basket in and dressed.

She opened the door and cleared her throat as she stepped into the living room.

He turned his head. “You feel human again?”

“Definitely. Thank you.” She sat down.

He pointed to the phone. “While you’re calling your mom, I’m going to get cleaned up. I won’t be long.” He stood up and walked to the bathroom.

She took a deep breath and dialed Alden Ross Law Office. Her mother was the receptionist/secretary, but Al didn’t mind personal calls, as long as they were kept short.

Her mother’s voice was tense but friendly. “Good afternoon, Ross’ Law Office.”

Cassie swallowed hard. “Hi, Mom, it’s me.”

Glenys Bennington gasped. “Cassie? Cassie? Where have you been? Where are you?”

“I’m all right. I went with Dorrie to a nightclub on the West Side, and I got sick after this one drink.” She tried to remember Lucas’ suggestions. “I went back to Dorrie’s house and spent the night. I’m sorry I didn’t call, but I felt so sick I just couldn’t.”

“You didn’t have just one drink, did you?”

She was silent, wondering what to say. Mother, I woke up with a hangover in some guy’s apartment. But fortunately he hasn’t murdered me. At least not yet. That explanation would go over great, she thought.

Her mother’s voice was grim. “Cassie, how much did you drink?”

“Mom, have you ever heard of Long Island Iced Tea?”

“Yes, your father gave me one once. It knocked me flat on my ear.”

“Well, that’s what Dorrie told me to order. And then I had another.”

“You had two? Good grief, Cassie! What were you thinking?”

Cassie took a deep breath. “I had another one after that.”

Silence reigned for a full minute.

“Mom? You there?”

“We’ll talk tonight.” Cassie felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Death by firing squad would be easier. Glenys continued. “Your father came to get Jack this morning. He was asking where you were. I told him you stayed over at a friend’s house, but then he asked what friend, and when I told him a friend from work, he wanted to know who. He’ll probably be asking Jack today who Dorrie is.”

A voice barked in the background. “Is she all right?”

“Yes, Al, she’s alive. She stayed over at her friend’s house.”

Her mother continued. “Just be ready tonight in case your father calls and wants to talk to you. I hate to say I told you so, but I never did like Dorrie.”

Cassie rolled her eyes. If only her mother could be right without being annoying. “Mom, I’m sorry. I had no idea how strong that drink was until it was too late.”

Her mother sighed. “Well, I guess it could have been worse. You could have woke up this morning with some strange man.”

As if on cue, the buzz of an electric razor sounded from the bathroom, and Cassie felt the blood shoot to her hairline. “That would have been awful,” she heard herself agreeing tonelessly. The razor kept whizzing merrily along, and she hoped her mother couldn’t hear. “Well, I need to get going or I’ll be late for work.”

She hung up quickly. The razor seemed to make a few short swipes on what sounded like a chin. Cassie collapsed back on the couch. Why did men need electric razors?

Lucas stepped into the living room, stubble gone. He now wore a clean button-down white shirt with gray jeans, and his hair was neatly combed back. “Do I still look like somebody on America’s Most Wanted?”

“You look a lot better,” she managed. She felt herself blushing, and decided that now would be a good time to reach down for her shoes.

He started undoing the locks on the door. “It was all over your face this morning. Do you want lunch? We can run by the drive-thru.”

She stood up. “Thanks, but I don’t trust my stomach yet. I work in a grocery store; I can get something there.”

The Chicago Marriott

The ice clinked in the water glasses as the waiter refilled them. Elliot Barrow smiled at the waiter, handed over his menu. “I’ll just do the Cobb salad today.” He looked back across the table to Judge Aaron Hamner. “So, did Belinda find the sale my wife told you about?”

“She did, but she said the clothes were pretty well picked over. I told her better luck next year. How are you two coping with the campaign?”

“About as well as we can, I suppose. I keep telling myself that it’ll all be worth it when I’m in the governor’s office. I tell you, Aaron, I’m going to make some changes around here.”

Hamner smiled grimly. “Good luck with that. Just the inertia will drive you mad. Every time somebody gets an idea, seems like it gets stuck in committee until it dies a horrible death.” He sipped his wine as Barrow chuckled. “But, you can enjoy that when you get there. If you get there. The polls have Chambers on you pretty hard.”

“We’re neck and neck; I know it. But that crook is going to run off the rails. I’m going to show him up.”

“How? Call a press conference?” Hamner laughed.

“Nope. I’m going to nail Chambers to the wall. But I need you to help me.”

“Elliot, I’m a judge. Neutral. I can’t preside over an investigation that could influence an election. Especially when everybody knows we’re buddies.”

“No, nothing like that. I just need one little thing from you.”

West Side

The apartment had underground parking, and Lucas led the way to a black Ford Mustang in the corner. Inside, she caught the smell of aftershave and leather. “Nice car,” she couldn’t help saying.

“It’s my baby.” He smiled at her, and she found herself blushing again. She smiled back tightly, and faced forward. The car pulled out into the bright sunlight, and she put down the visor, wishing she had sunglasses. She looked about on the busy street, trying to orient herself. They had traveled four blocks when she saw the club she had been at last night. Then the lights at Starbright had sparkled off the disco ball and spilled onto the street; the crowds and the thumping music inside had made her feel excited and alive.

But in the daylight, the place looked old and worn-down. The paint was peeling off the windowsills and doorway, and a closed sign hung crazily on the door. Only a few feet away was an alley. A police car blocked it off from the street, and suddenly she felt sick.

“Lucas, look. That alley.”


“Shouldn’t we stop?”

He snorted. “Are you nuts? Of course not.”

“But the police are there and…”

“We’re not stopping.” His voice was suddenly sharp. A silence descended over the car, and they were on the freeway before he spoke again. “That guy would have raped you and left you in the street. Uh-huh,” he growled as he saw her wince. “That’s what it’s called.”

She felt even sicker. Until now, she had refused to think about what the nameless thug had meant to do. She didn’t want to think about it now, wished Lucas would please shut up, but he continued without mercy. “The cops would be interviewing you right now to see how much you remember. Since you were drunk, that would be nada. Even if they caught him later, he’d have said it was consensual, and who’s to argue? If he went to the E.R. last night, that’s his problem.” The car sped up, and he went quiet at last.

Cassie stared unseeing out the window. What if the man gave a description of Lucas to the police, claiming he had been attacked? Or what if …

“What if he tells the police that he was minding his own business and you beat him up?”

Lucas grinned a little at that. “You can bet he has. Who cares? It was dark. All he’s going to remember are my fists. Even if he did see me, if he’s smart he’ll keep his trap shut, because if the cops found me—big if—I’d tell them about you. Attempted sexual assault—that’s no joke. He could be looking at ten to twenty years. If I got anything, it’d consist of the judge telling me off and maybe giving me 100 hours picking up litter by the freeway. Depends how sorry I look.”

“What if you beat him so bad, that, you know…?”

Lucas actually laughed. “That he died? He’s not gonna die. I mashed his face, might have broken a rib or two, but he’ll live. Not very comfortably for awhile, but he’ll live. Relax. You think the cops have never seen this before? You think they even care? Interview the victim, do the paperwork, throw it in a folder, and go get a doughnut. Baby, this is Chicago. Murder, armed robbery, kidnapping—the cops get more real stuff than they can ever handle. In a hundred years they’ll clean out the records and last night’s little incident will land in the circular file. If it wasn’t for cops, the manila folder people would go out of business.”

Cassie found his outlook disturbing. She decided she wanted to get to work. And when she got there, she would tell this guy Thank You Very Much, and Have a Nice Life. And hopefully grim-looking men in blue uniforms would not pound on her door to ask uncomfortable questions.

The car clock read 1:58 when he stopped in Lazano’s parking lot. Cassie was glad, since it meant there was no time for chitchat. Lucas had simply nodded when she thanked him, and responded, “Next time, either stay sober, or get drunk with nicer people.”

Dorrie wasn’t there. It was the third time she had failed to come in without calling, and Cassie knew Dorrie’s job was already hanging by a thread. Mr. Lazano looked like thunder. “Weren’t you going to go out with her last night? What happened?”

“She got drunk and left me at the club,” she replied tersely. Cassie didn’t care if he fired the twit. Dorrie’s stupidity could have gotten her killed.

His thick eyebrows knit together in concern. “Oh, Cassie. Did you get home all right?”

“Yes.” There was no point telling him the details. “But I’m never going anywhere with her again.” She slid a baseball cap on her head, put on the deli apron and washed her hands.

“Sounds like a wise decision,” replied Mr. Lazano. “Well, we need some more chicken salad made. This is probably the last good weekend of the year, so everybody’s having picnics today. We’re about cleaned out.”

Cassie pulled off a paper towel and dried her hands. “I’m on it.”

Mr. Lazano turned away to greet a customer, and Cassie pulled a baked chicken from the fridge. Tearing the meat would give her something to do, take her mind off that terrible alley, Dorrie, Lucas, Mom, Dad—ah, just cut up the stupid chicken.

Submitted: February 09, 2009

© Copyright 2021 Helena Parris. All rights reserved.


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Add Your Comments:



lol chicken xD i'm interested. something's bugging me about this lucas dude o_O really great writing! great start :D keep it up!

Mon, February 9th, 2009 2:41am

Helena Parris

Second chapter up tomorrow!

Mon, February 9th, 2009 2:53am


I loved it! Murder stories have *never* been my thing but you've got some real talent! Your style is clear, to the point. Who wouldn't love that? You've got several different stories weaving into one.

All I've got to say is that you've got a wonderful beginning to start from. Well done and good luck!



Mon, February 9th, 2009 2:28pm


Thanks, SnowQueen! I'm glad you like it.

Mon, February 9th, 2009 7:33am


crime stories are not my thing in fact i despise them but i really like yours

Mon, February 16th, 2009 5:35am


Thank you for making an exception! I grew up on Agatha Christie and M.M. Kaye, so I just naturally gravitate to detective stories. If I try to write anything too romantic, I feel silly, and I can't even imagine trying to write sci-fi.

Mon, February 16th, 2009 10:59am


Ah, I LOVE thrillers, mysteries, detective stories and the like! And yours is top class. I had great hopes from you after reading 'The Widow's Painting', and I am not disappointed at all.

Tue, February 24th, 2009 2:52pm


Thank you! I hope you will like the next installment.

Tue, February 24th, 2009 1:46pm


Wow, this is marvelously written. I can't say I'm a particular fan of the mystery, crime-like genre, but I'll dabble into anything if it's written well enough. AND THIS IS FANTASTIC. I absolutely love it! On to the next chapter!

Mon, March 30th, 2009 9:57pm


Good! Hope you keep liking it.

Mon, March 30th, 2009 5:37pm


This is so good so far :)
I don't know what to think about Lucas though lol, there's something about him I don't like but...I'm just gonna keep reading and find out lol

Sat, April 18th, 2009 4:56pm


Yeah, he's a little odd...hard to say with him!

Sat, April 18th, 2009 9:59am


This story is really good. I can't stop reading. =]

Sat, April 18th, 2009 8:11pm


Good! I'm glad you enjoy it.

Sat, April 18th, 2009 1:13pm


All I really have to say is...

On to chapter 2!

Wed, May 6th, 2009 7:55pm


Keep going!

Wed, May 6th, 2009 1:22pm


Love it!

Sat, May 16th, 2009 3:09pm



Sat, May 16th, 2009 3:25pm


you have a great clear cut way of writting, very down-to-earth. some writers (like myself) try using fancy words and snobby sayings, but u dont need them because u have talent on ur own! congrats on publishing this! i was thinking of publishing my own work to, but im not sure who wood buy it, lol.
plz come check out "the secret duke" and tell me if u think some one woood acually buy it! hehe
thx! and great luck w/ ur novel! :)

Tue, May 19th, 2009 7:31pm


If I have any writing ability, you can thank my senior English teacher. I used to use "fancy words and snobby sayings," and people seemed impressed. English was my best subject, and I had this idea that I was somehow a writing genius. When I registered for classes for Senior year, I figured I'd breeze through Advanced Compostion and collect an easy A at the end of semester. Well, as they say, pride goes before a fall. Ms. Bertorello did not approve of my complex-compound sentences written in passive voice with semi-colons and dangling modifiers. She bled red ink all over my papers. For the first time, I got back essays marked with the letter D. At the time I felt enraged that she did not recognize my talent and general wonderful-ness. Now I realize I richly deserved it. She was the one who forced me to trim the flab, and if my writing career ever gets off the ground, she deserves the credit.

Tue, May 19th, 2009 2:34pm


This is pretty good. I don't say that often, but this is pretty solid stuff. You can definitely tighten it up in spots, though. Somewhere--I think it was in Stephen King's "On Writing"--I read a great quote that when you write you're telling yourself the story, but when you edit you're taking out everything that is NOT the story.

There's definitely some stuff in here that is not the story. Little bits that are redundant, or that don't add anything.

For example, when Cassie calls her mom, the dialogue basically plays out the same excuse that Lucas suggested to her. It's believable that she would do this, because it was pretty decent cover story, but for the reader, we don't need to read it twice. Instead, you can just reference the cover story and conclude with some line by Cassie's mother admonishing her not to drink so much, or whatever.

And at the very end of this chapter, Cassie's boss tells her to make some chicken salad, and she says "I'm on it." That's great, but it's enough. The subsequent paragraph veers away from the _story_, into some details about chicken-salad making and some inner monologue, which doesn't advance things any. Ending the paragraph with "I'm on it" is actually a pretty strong finish, all things considered. The last paragraph after that, though, is pretty anti-climactic considering what has come before in the chapter.

And a minor note about inner monologues: when you're displaying characters' thoughts for the reader, those thoughts should typically be written in the first-person present tense. In your opening scene, you have this line:

If he’d been sober, he thought, that jerk would’ve been on the floor.

Which is much more natural as:

If I was sober, he thought, that jerk would be on the floor.

All in all, an intriguing chapter. You have strong skills. Keep going!

Tue, June 9th, 2009 5:20pm


I went ahead and put Man in the Darkness on CreateSpace and even sold a couple, so I feel I can't really make any corrections to it. All I can do is make sure I don't repeat my mistakes in the one I'm writing now. That one is a bit more challenging, since the clues to the crime are in a century-old diary.
But thank you for the Stephen King quote. And I'm glad you enjoyed reading this selection, clankers and all!

Tue, June 9th, 2009 10:32am

John Wyres Smith

I really like this. I love the simplicity and directness of your style. The characters are well drawn and I always wanted know more. I do agree with one of the guys who commented earlier about certain things not needing to be there/repeated (the phone call to her mum going over Lucas' excuse). Other than that it is very good. I want to read more.

Sat, September 19th, 2009 1:32pm


I'm glad you enjoy it; like I said, I've already got this one out, so what's done is done. I'll try to do better next time around.

Sat, September 19th, 2009 11:31am


This is amazing!

Sat, October 10th, 2009 2:50pm


Thanks! Glad you like it!

Mon, October 12th, 2009 5:31pm


Wonderfully written. This is a very intriging piece and I can't wait to read more!

Sun, December 27th, 2009 5:37pm


Glad you enjoyed it! Thanks for stopping by and reading.

Sun, December 27th, 2009 9:37am


this was really good. I liked it-wait to read more but I have to get off the computer rite now. Great job!

Mon, March 1st, 2010 2:18am


Glad you liked it; hope you can read some more later!

Sun, February 28th, 2010 8:02pm


This was definitely very good. It kind of reminds me of a book I had to read in school, called "Tooth and Nail." Lucas seems a bit creepy and his aim is unknown as of yet, but I'll be waiting to find out :)

Wed, May 12th, 2010 7:47pm


I've never heard of that book; I'll look it up. Thanks for reading!

Thu, May 13th, 2010 4:11am

Tee Corneilo

I love this! You have very strong writing skills and I am so intrigued by Lucas. I cannot wait to read more and more and more lol!

Tue, July 13th, 2010 10:54pm


Good! I'm glad you are enjoying it!

Wed, July 14th, 2010 12:57am


I really enjoyed reading your style of writting. I have a shabby story on here for feed back. I don't have any commited writers where I live. I'd love it if you would drop by and read mine. I look forward to reading the next chapter.

Sun, October 24th, 2010 8:56pm


I'm glad you enjoyed it. I hope you like the rest of the sample as well. I'll stop by and take a look when I get the chance.

Sun, October 24th, 2010 1:59pm


Wow, that was a great first chapter (: .. I'm new to the site, feel free to read some of my work..I'd honestly like too know if it's at all good..thankyou & good first chapter!

Wed, November 10th, 2010 12:32pm


Thanks! I'll stop by and take a look.

Wed, November 10th, 2010 4:39am

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Other Content by Helena Parris

Short Story / Mystery and Crime

Book / Mystery and Crime

Short Story / Mystery and Crime