Two men are seated at a black marble desk with one crystal white light shining down over them. They are dwarfed by the high ceilings of this office. Office? Can it be deemed worthy of being called an office when it’s walls are empty and like a box, sits devoid of windows? An unwelcoming environment where no sense of life has painted the room – no laugh shared – nor idle chit chat of home life expressed, only calculated orders and business has ever existed in this space. This room is as callous as the outside of the building with all the greys that gloom the room except for Victoria Frankenstein’s red leather bound journal that rests on the desk. At the moment it’s what is in the room that feels the most alive .


    ; arved on his left profile is a four claw scar reaching from his eye to the base of his neck. The markings are spread wide at the front of his face and combine near his shoulder. The light in the room deepens the shadows of the raised skin of the scar making them prominent here. His voice is deceiving in that it is polite with poise and though abrasive in volume it is clearly respective and light, seeming to overcome what gravel that lives there.


    . To brief you, Victoria begins by writing about the event of 1805 in which an accident occurs-


    cuts in. Ezra stops talking and adjusts himself to listen like an obedient soldier. The ancient man is in a dark blue suit with a long black coat almost clergyman like. Dark grey gloves cover his hands that have a metal button on the wrist with the letters “V.H.” on them. Thick short strands of his platinum white hair scarcely poke out from under the dark blue homberg hat he is wearing. Large blue eyes with a voided stare sit inside sunken sockets. Rumple old rubbery skin makes up his emotionless face. He continues while looking at Ezra unblinking, “That is how I understand it. Listen, I am certain I will hear about the contents of this journal with precise analysis. No piece of information in those journals is ever overlooked, examined to the point of dizzying exhaustion, all secrets squeezed out and fizzed out, without a question of missing any dark corner. I will read every report in its entirety, every single word of the foundation to no end and I will understand it with its lines of exactitude. What I won’t find in those reports is a single opinion. If there is a person of opinion with an exquisite mind in this world wide organization I trust it is with you. Those eyes are never without the turning of gears and I would rather extract those thoughts than spend a moment with you shilling out more object classifications, security protocols and procedures. Longitudes & latitudes, Proximity’s & perimeters, cold and sharp technical jargon. What are you afraid of Ezra? What did you find in that journal that is absolutely terrifying?”If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.