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“So what aspect of the paranormal are we searching for today Mr. Norry? Sasquatch fur? More alien artifacts?” Startled by Mr. Martel’s graveled voice, Andrew dropped the strange book back into the drawer. Looking up, he tried to speak but stumbled over his own words at the sight of the tall skeleton-like frame of Mr. Martel looming above him. Dark and sunken eyes filled with a joyless gleam stared at Andrew through two oval glass lenses. Above this terrible gaze were a pair of curious eyebrows, one of which appeared tired and low set in contrast to the other which seemed to be ever frozen upwards in an angular state of questioning. Martel slid his thinly framed glasses to the peak of a sloping nose which perfectly matched his poorly aged and withered face. Dry and cracked lips opened revealing two rows of coffee stained teeth as he spoke. “No. You’re looking for something special this time, aren’t you?” Martel slammed the drawer shut, barely catching Andrews’ fingertips. He almost looked disappointed in the fact that Andrew retained all his digits. “Ms. Fitzburg told me all about your story and I must admit I found it very entertaining. Why not put the same effort into my teachings as you do with your works of fiction Mr. Norry and take a seat.” |
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