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<To Celia's Looking Glass chapter 1
Two large, fat men middle-aged men sat at the small circular table in the tiny delapidated apartment. The small living-space was dirty, and in fact it had never been cleaned once since the current inhabitants had moved in, which had been a very long time. There was no refrigerator, no electricity, and nothing kept in any of the cupboards, nor the pantry. However, despite the presence of any sort of light fixture, the apartment was always lit up, as if by invisible candles that never quite burnt down, but were always approaching the point of sputtering into nothingness. Despite it's lack of upkeep, the apartment lacked any distinctive smell, even the tell-tale odors of inhabitance that invariably marked the home of any animal or man.
However, until recently, the apartment had housed seven occupants nearly twenty-four hours per day for a very long time. Two of the previous occupants lay under white sheets on the floor, with pools of blood leaking from underneath the covering. The macabre scene didn't seem to bother the two unpleasantly fat occupants of the apartment who sat at the table.
They had very similar appearances, both with large bulbous noses, pouchy sagging cheeks which lacked any sort of hue, and small flappy ears. Their eyes were small and squinty, and nearly disappeared beneath the identical brown bowler hats the two men wore. They were both dressed in unappealing brown suits, with ugly patterened ties which were reflections of eachother. They both had large meaty hands and thick bulging legs. Altogether they were two of the ugliest men to ever walk the earth. Besides the hideous ties, the only things to tell the difference between them was that one had a thick, prickly, bushy mustache that looked like a small furry porcupine nailed to his upper lip.
They were both silent as the door opened slowly and a slim youngish man came in. He noted the two bodies on the floor but said nothing right away. He hung up his overcoat on the coathanger and threw his green and yellow scarf around the shoulders of his coat. He turned to face the two seated men. He had thick and moderately long dark wavy hair and piercing deep brown eyes. His shoulders were slightly rounded, and he wore a green knit sweater and slacks with simple brown shoes. He put his hands in his pockets. Glancing from the two bodies laying dead and mangled on the floor to the two fat men, he remained perfectly composed.
"Is Celia alright?" asked the man who had just entered.
"She's fine. We need her, and you, Jeriah," answered the man with the mustache.
Jeriah's eyes quickly moved to rest his gaze on the man who had not spoken.
"Have anything to say about this, Mr. Stemblanc?" asked the younger man.
The mustached man answered again, "Stemblanc isn't much of a talker. Mr. Evenst, you know that."
Jeriah didn't move his gaze from Stemblanc. "I know that, Mr. Daughslat. It was a silly question. Neither of you are autonomous enough to do this. Where's the third?"
"Well, he's out," answered Daughslat, "but he'll be returning shortly. You see, we've sent someone through, without...what do you call it, Stemblanc?"
The silent man spoke for the first time, "Authorization."
"Authorization!" exclaimed Daughslat, "That's the one. Good show, Stemblanc. Anyway, have a seat Jeriah. We have a lot to talk about."
Jeriah remained standing. "Why did you have to kill Osctis and Duglin?" he asked.
Daughslat scoffed. The action caused his expansive belly to jiggle unpleasantly, like scarcely contained whale blubber. "You think they would have cooperated?" he asked skeptically.
"Do you think I'm going to?" asked Jeriah. The fat man knew the answer, but not the reason behind it. Jeriah could have spelled it out for the two men, but neither would ever understand. Still, it was best if they didn't know what to expect, and the illusion of cooperation would ensure Celia's saftey.
"Of course you are, or else your little brat will end up like them," answered the mustached man, gesturing to the two bodies.
"Who went through?" asked Jeriah.
"A boy," answered Stemblanc lifelessly. He seemed very apathetic about the whole episode, but that didn't surprise Jeriah at all.
"Just a boy?" asked Jeriah, "No boy in particular?"
"Well, we were hoping you could shed a little light on that particular question, Evenst."
Jeriah Evenst eyed the fat man coldly. Then he sat down.
"How far is he?" asked the dark haired man.
"See for yourself," answered Daughslat. Stemblanc waved his pudgy hand over the table, and the top became a small ethereal window into the world of Celia's looking-glass.
"Already into the dark city? And garbed in white?" asked Jeriah, showing little signs of incredulity. The questions were phrased more reflectively, as if asking himself a question.
"What does it mean?" asked Daughslat.
"It means he may come back," answered Jeriah. He didn't want to give too much away, but it couldn't hurt to tell them that much.
However, Jeriah Evenst eyed the figure that was being
displayed on the table very interestedly and smiled inwardly. The three
men who had murdered his friends and who were holding he and his
daughter against their will had no idea what they were up against. Even
now, Jeriah could piece together the gist of their plan and their
failure to understand the nature of the looking-glass and even the
world itself would lead to their eventual demise.
To Celia's Looking Glass chapter 3>
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