- Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:

Allergies turned out to be a sinus infection. Hooray for antibiotics.

The Mayor, his pants legs catching on every burr and weed as he walked, began the long trek through the town to rally the citizens and eventually drag them to the spooky mansion where the Maestro lived.


He peered through a random window, his dark eyes shifting. It was a 50’s style diner, and a waitress carrying a plate saw him and shrieked. This, being precisely the sort of entrance he wanted, allowed him to open the door and waddle up to the counter.


Having heard the waitress scream, the manager glanced towards the thundering Mayor and immediately ducked into a cubby space, knocking down several pots, pans, and dishes as he went.


“Mister Beze!” The Mayor roared. “I’d like to have a word with you!”


The manager, quaking in his boots, stammered a reply. “I-I-I’m afraid I can’t, sir.”


He looked over the edge, seeing the manager’s hiding spot. “Why not?”


“You came in here mad. Tha-tha-that ain’t a good sign.” He shook his head vigorously, rocking back in forth in a fetal position.


The waitress who had screamed began fumbling around in the kitchen, swearing loudly. She eventually came out and glared at the Mayor, her hands on her hips. “This better be important. You didn’t have to scare me half to death like that.”


A few customers were peeking around their booths, listening in. The Mayor nodded at them all. “Good. I’ve got a proper audience.” He dragged a chair up and sat down. “Folks, my daughter’s gone missing.”


There were several gasps and hushed whispers. He held up his meaty hands for silence. “I know what you’re probably thinking. I haven’t called the police, because I already know where she is.”


“Then why are you tellin’ us?” The waitress demanded.


“Because the Maestro took her.”


Silence. The few who could remember their last hike up to Someplace Else exchanged glances. They all knew what this meant.


Still hiding, Mr. Beze said, “I-I aint goin’ back up there!”


“Coward.” The Mayor muttered.


“There’s nothing wrong with being a coward…”


He whirled around. “Mrs. Dade--Pat, please. It’s for my daughter.”


The blonde woman who had spoken only shook her head. “It’s too dangerous. Remember what happened last time?”


Severla patrons nodded in agreement. One boy (who had mysteriously not grown older in the sixteen years since he had met Maestro) piped up. “But he’s nice! He wouldn’t hurt anybody.”


“Listen, son.” The Mayor pointed at him with a sausage finger. “My daughter is trapped up there with that monster. I told you all the truth about him last time, but you didn’t believe me. Now he’s taken my little girl, and none of you care!”


A hush fell upon the crowd. People began to shift nervously in their seats, and a few got up and left. A hip youth said, “Man, why you gotta lay this stuff on us? D’ya really think firin’ up the same grill as last time is gonna solve this detective junk, brotha?”


“Hip youth,” the Mayor began in a humble voice, “you have no say in these matters.”


The hip youth got up from his seat, muttering, “This some bullshit…” and walked out, taking everyone who still remained’s resolve with him. Which was about twenty people, including the waitress and Mr. Beze.


“Will you good people come with me and take care of this problem, once and for all?” The Mayor asked, puffing up his chest valiantly.


Mr. Beze slowly stood up--then slogged over. “I guess so, sir…”


With that, the Mayor gestured out the door, yelling, “ONWARD!”

You must login (register) to review.