Disclaimer: Characters not mine. Owned by someone else.
It would be nice to recieve some reviews concerning my work. I'm beginning to doubt if it's any good and for a few times I have thought about quitting writing fanfiction. Just tell me something...anything...even a reason to stop writing this. Propositions of how to make this better are also welcome. I'm sorry about the tenses and my writing errors. All of them are mine cause I have no program that would check spelling.
Ghastly Voices
Kurtis had never enjoyed flying and the experience he just had hadn't convinced him otherwice. There had been turbulence almost the whole time and that was something that he didn't go hand in hand with. The thing he hated most was the food or something the staff of the plane called food. It didn't taste anything but for some reason made him feel nauseous. He sighed mostly for joy because the plain had landed. He had thought it never would do such a thing. He had to sit next to an old man who told him almost everything there is to know about the Second World War. When they had been flying about an hour Kurtis had thought he could die of boredom. Hearing again and again the old man telling how his buddies had died was anything but good entertainment. Surely he had felt bad for the old man but after a while he had started to feel bad for himself. Did he look like someone who gladly listened every memory and trouble of fellow men.
He sighed again. This time it was for the lack of taxis. He had never thought it could be hard to get a cab here and yet here he was standing in a long line waiting to get in one of those infernal pieces of metal. He himself preferred his bike. When this small realization swooped over him he closed his eyes. His bike. It must still be there where he left it after arriving to Praque...and there was no way to retrieve it now.
At least he knew where Lara lived and for the first time was pleased with himself about the backround check he made of her after he left the small Parisian cafe. Most of the information he had managed to gather had been wrong. He had understood it when they met in the Louvre and the understanding had deepened when they exchanged words for the first time. She was nothing they had written in the articles - instead of it she had seemed to be everything else. The first time he had read the articles about her being the Monstrum he found it hard to believe. To be honest he couldn't believe it. There was something in the way she carried herself that made her appear right-minded not some wacko who roams the streets sucking the liquid of life out of every person that doesn't please her.
He didn't know how long he had stood there thinking about Lara but he was brought back from his thoughts when a taxi driver hooted his horn.
"Are you going to get in?", he yelled angrily his eyes blazing with hatred.
Kurtis couldn't do nothing more than wonder for a moment where the man's anger came from. Then he silently opened the passanger's side door and sat in. In a low voice he told the driver where he was heading. He was going to see the place where Lara lived, the chairs she sat on while eating, the gym - he was positive that she had at least some sort of equipment - the bed she slept in and smell the air she breathed out and in. He tried to imagine what her home looked like for there had been no picture of the building in the articles. One had mentioned she lived in the Croft Manor. He remembered quickly what the letter told him . Winston knows who you are. Winston who? Was Winston her husband? If Lara was his wife Kurtis thought he would never let her have all those adventures alone. Kurtis came to the conclusion that Winston weren't Lara's husband or boyfriend or then their relationship was really dry.
While he was thinking about Lara the taxi had found its way to Surrey where Lara's mansion was located. Seeing the magnificent building for the first time caused Kurtis' eyes to flew open. He had thought that a woman like Lara wanted a larger place than a bed-sitting-room or a one-bedroom apartment like he had but not in his wildest dreams had he imagined her living in a mansion this large. They stopped at the gate and the driver got out of his taxi to ring a bell by the wrought-iron gate. Soon a voice called out to them asking what was their business. The taxi driver told to the voice carefully who was the man in the passenger seat of the taxi and some parts of why he had travelled all the way from Praque to meet the lady of the house. Kurtis' last hopes of finding Lara here faided away when the voice told them she hadn't been there for a long time. The taxi driver sat back on the driver's seat when the gate suddenly opened with loud screak.
After getting out of the taxi and paying for the ride Kurtis noticed an elderly man standing on the doorstep watching him. He approached the man carefully not only because of suspicion but also because of his wounds. The stomach wound that wasn't healed yet still blead a little and to his releaf only a few stiches had broken. His feet really didn't feel that bad and to him it felt like they had never even met the shards of glass. The couple of scratches he had on his scalp and forhead weren't bad and to his surprise his palms hadn't even touched the glass. None of his bones were broken and only a couple of his ribs had cracked. He felt fine.
"Mr. Kurtis Trent?", the man in tuxedo asked him. To Kurtis the man looked like a butler just a little bit too old to be one.
"I am he", Kurtis replied.
"This way sir", the butler opened the door to Kurtis who, not used to a servant, eyed him for a while before stepping inside.
"Who might you be?", Kurtis asked rather bluntly. The shocked expression on the butler's face made Kurtis realize that he wasn't use to be treated in such a manner. "I'm sorry, sir" Kurtis said quickly. In his whole life he had never had anyone, not even a nanny, who would've been around just to serve him.
"No harm done mr. Trent. Ms. Croft informed me of your possible appearance. I have redied a room for you sir"
"Thank you mr...?"
"You may call me Winston"
Winston showed Kurtis his room and after being awake far too long for man in his condition Kurtis went to sleep. He didn't care if the day was dawning he just needed to rest for a while. While he was sleeping Winston took the package Lara had sent him and took it into Kurtis' room.
"Kuurtisss..."
Kurtis didn't need more than the cold voice to jump out of the bed grimacing when the stiches made their protest to the sudden movement. He stood there for a moment so his eyes could get used to the darkness - he had pulled the curtains down so the raising sun wouldn't wake him up.
"Kuurtisss..."
He wasn't even sure if the voice was really calling to him. It sounded like a whisper but lenghtened one through lips that had been partly sewed shut. He felt cold. Not just because of the voice but also the temperature seemed to have reached lower grades. It and the voice made him get goose bumps and shiver. He moved closer to the door to put lights on.
"Winston?", he yelled although he already knew that no living creature could make a hissling sound match the one he had heard. No one answered his call. He pushed the switch and caused the room bathe in light. There was no one there. Slowly Kurtis stepped towards the bed suddenly feeling the breeze over his hand. He turned to look at the two windows in the room and found both of them closed.
"Kuurtisss..."
Kurtis jumped backwards expecting to bump in someone but no one was there. The last whisper had sounded like whoever made the voice was standing next to him whispering in his ear. He could hear how hoarse the voice was like it was calling to him from another state of existence. Kurtis' breath began to slow down as he turned around only to find nothing around him. A shiver made its journey down his spine making him more alert.
Sigh "Hhhhhh...Kuurtiiss"
He froze. Again the source of voice was right next to him and now he could feel it. Slow cold breath against his cheek. He swallowed soundly and turned his gaze to the sound and breath only to find no one there. The breath stayed now caressing his face. Something slid slowly down his cheek like someone blind was trying to form an image of his facial structure. The touch felt cold and dead. The limp fingers he felt on his cheek lingered there a while.
"Kuurtiss..."
It would be nice to recieve some reviews concerning my work. I'm beginning to doubt if it's any good and for a few times I have thought about quitting writing fanfiction. Just tell me something...anything...even a reason to stop writing this. Propositions of how to make this better are also welcome. I'm sorry about the tenses and my writing errors. All of them are mine cause I have no program that would check spelling.
Ghastly Voices
Kurtis had never enjoyed flying and the experience he just had hadn't convinced him otherwice. There had been turbulence almost the whole time and that was something that he didn't go hand in hand with. The thing he hated most was the food or something the staff of the plane called food. It didn't taste anything but for some reason made him feel nauseous. He sighed mostly for joy because the plain had landed. He had thought it never would do such a thing. He had to sit next to an old man who told him almost everything there is to know about the Second World War. When they had been flying about an hour Kurtis had thought he could die of boredom. Hearing again and again the old man telling how his buddies had died was anything but good entertainment. Surely he had felt bad for the old man but after a while he had started to feel bad for himself. Did he look like someone who gladly listened every memory and trouble of fellow men.
He sighed again. This time it was for the lack of taxis. He had never thought it could be hard to get a cab here and yet here he was standing in a long line waiting to get in one of those infernal pieces of metal. He himself preferred his bike. When this small realization swooped over him he closed his eyes. His bike. It must still be there where he left it after arriving to Praque...and there was no way to retrieve it now.
At least he knew where Lara lived and for the first time was pleased with himself about the backround check he made of her after he left the small Parisian cafe. Most of the information he had managed to gather had been wrong. He had understood it when they met in the Louvre and the understanding had deepened when they exchanged words for the first time. She was nothing they had written in the articles - instead of it she had seemed to be everything else. The first time he had read the articles about her being the Monstrum he found it hard to believe. To be honest he couldn't believe it. There was something in the way she carried herself that made her appear right-minded not some wacko who roams the streets sucking the liquid of life out of every person that doesn't please her.
He didn't know how long he had stood there thinking about Lara but he was brought back from his thoughts when a taxi driver hooted his horn.
"Are you going to get in?", he yelled angrily his eyes blazing with hatred.
Kurtis couldn't do nothing more than wonder for a moment where the man's anger came from. Then he silently opened the passanger's side door and sat in. In a low voice he told the driver where he was heading. He was going to see the place where Lara lived, the chairs she sat on while eating, the gym - he was positive that she had at least some sort of equipment - the bed she slept in and smell the air she breathed out and in. He tried to imagine what her home looked like for there had been no picture of the building in the articles. One had mentioned she lived in the Croft Manor. He remembered quickly what the letter told him . Winston knows who you are. Winston who? Was Winston her husband? If Lara was his wife Kurtis thought he would never let her have all those adventures alone. Kurtis came to the conclusion that Winston weren't Lara's husband or boyfriend or then their relationship was really dry.
While he was thinking about Lara the taxi had found its way to Surrey where Lara's mansion was located. Seeing the magnificent building for the first time caused Kurtis' eyes to flew open. He had thought that a woman like Lara wanted a larger place than a bed-sitting-room or a one-bedroom apartment like he had but not in his wildest dreams had he imagined her living in a mansion this large. They stopped at the gate and the driver got out of his taxi to ring a bell by the wrought-iron gate. Soon a voice called out to them asking what was their business. The taxi driver told to the voice carefully who was the man in the passenger seat of the taxi and some parts of why he had travelled all the way from Praque to meet the lady of the house. Kurtis' last hopes of finding Lara here faided away when the voice told them she hadn't been there for a long time. The taxi driver sat back on the driver's seat when the gate suddenly opened with loud screak.
After getting out of the taxi and paying for the ride Kurtis noticed an elderly man standing on the doorstep watching him. He approached the man carefully not only because of suspicion but also because of his wounds. The stomach wound that wasn't healed yet still blead a little and to his releaf only a few stiches had broken. His feet really didn't feel that bad and to him it felt like they had never even met the shards of glass. The couple of scratches he had on his scalp and forhead weren't bad and to his surprise his palms hadn't even touched the glass. None of his bones were broken and only a couple of his ribs had cracked. He felt fine.
"Mr. Kurtis Trent?", the man in tuxedo asked him. To Kurtis the man looked like a butler just a little bit too old to be one.
"I am he", Kurtis replied.
"This way sir", the butler opened the door to Kurtis who, not used to a servant, eyed him for a while before stepping inside.
"Who might you be?", Kurtis asked rather bluntly. The shocked expression on the butler's face made Kurtis realize that he wasn't use to be treated in such a manner. "I'm sorry, sir" Kurtis said quickly. In his whole life he had never had anyone, not even a nanny, who would've been around just to serve him.
"No harm done mr. Trent. Ms. Croft informed me of your possible appearance. I have redied a room for you sir"
"Thank you mr...?"
"You may call me Winston"
Winston showed Kurtis his room and after being awake far too long for man in his condition Kurtis went to sleep. He didn't care if the day was dawning he just needed to rest for a while. While he was sleeping Winston took the package Lara had sent him and took it into Kurtis' room.
"Kuurtisss..."
Kurtis didn't need more than the cold voice to jump out of the bed grimacing when the stiches made their protest to the sudden movement. He stood there for a moment so his eyes could get used to the darkness - he had pulled the curtains down so the raising sun wouldn't wake him up.
"Kuurtisss..."
He wasn't even sure if the voice was really calling to him. It sounded like a whisper but lenghtened one through lips that had been partly sewed shut. He felt cold. Not just because of the voice but also the temperature seemed to have reached lower grades. It and the voice made him get goose bumps and shiver. He moved closer to the door to put lights on.
"Winston?", he yelled although he already knew that no living creature could make a hissling sound match the one he had heard. No one answered his call. He pushed the switch and caused the room bathe in light. There was no one there. Slowly Kurtis stepped towards the bed suddenly feeling the breeze over his hand. He turned to look at the two windows in the room and found both of them closed.
"Kuurtisss..."
Kurtis jumped backwards expecting to bump in someone but no one was there. The last whisper had sounded like whoever made the voice was standing next to him whispering in his ear. He could hear how hoarse the voice was like it was calling to him from another state of existence. Kurtis' breath began to slow down as he turned around only to find nothing around him. A shiver made its journey down his spine making him more alert.
Sigh "Hhhhhh...Kuurtiiss"
He froze. Again the source of voice was right next to him and now he could feel it. Slow cold breath against his cheek. He swallowed soundly and turned his gaze to the sound and breath only to find no one there. The breath stayed now caressing his face. Something slid slowly down his cheek like someone blind was trying to form an image of his facial structure. The touch felt cold and dead. The limp fingers he felt on his cheek lingered there a while.
"Kuurtiss..."