nano novel...progressing...

The finger looked rather red when the man removed it from his mouth to consider it with all the concentration he could muster in his drunken state. Sven saw a thin line of dribbling red form on nearly two of the sensitive pads, which confirmed his suspicions. Mark had managed to cut himself.

Sven let one corner of his mouth pull upwards, and darted his eyes behind them. The crowd was gathered at the sidewalk, and there were no less than six officers busying themselves by attempting to herd them back with outstretched arms.

Sven jusdged that to be enough of a distraction, and, while not exactily boldly slipping past the doors like he imagined a burglar would, he diid get inside. Each step he took crunched loudly, and he lducked his head low as he creeped his way along. He didn’t know why he bothered, but it just felt like the right thing to do.

It was supposed to be a library, and at the time, it felt like he was intruding in a place he should not really be in.

He nearly jumped a foot in the air at the crashing sound behind him, and quickly lifted his arms to cover his face. Tiny shards of glass scraped against his bare arms, and he hissed at the sting they left behind. He lowered them tentatively in the silence that followed, and scowled at Marks beeming proud face.

“Door makes a better door now. “ The man said, and stepped the rest of the way through the now glassless door. Sven eyed the brick the man tossed aside, and as it thunked dully against the tile, he watched as the man assumed an air of someone who had just accomplished something grand and noble. Mark took a moment to glance about like a overlarge, and in Sven’s opinion, highly deranged toddler, then whistled loudly with his lips pursed out as he turned in a slow circle.

“Newpapers?” Sven prompted.

“Oh. Yea. They kept them by the wall over there.” Mark said, and gestured vaguely over toward the far couner. Sven peered at the area, and although it was heavily draped in shadows, he lifted a single brow.  A heaping pile composed of broken tables and disembowled books nearly blocked his view of the dim lighting over there, but it looked really bleak to him.

“uh huh. Sure.” Sven drawled.

Mark stood still and looked at him with a piercing sort of gaze. Sven looked back, matching gaze for gaze for several minutes, then took in a breath.

“What ?”

“well get started.” Mark demaded, and folded his pudgy arms across his chest.

“Startd with what?”

“Finding the newspaper.” Mark said with an exasperated sort of tone.

“Nuh uh. You do that. I wanted to stay home, member”

“Bite me.” Mark grumbled, and as the man staggered past, Sven saw that the man stuck out his lower lip in an immature pout. The big man’s form was soon lost in the shadows, but Sven could easily pick out the stomping of his heavy feet.

Sven heard rather than saw the rumbling crash of a lot of things tumbling to the tiled floor.

“you ok there mark?”

“Shut it man.” Was the muffled reply. “Not a word.”

Sven smirked, and settled himself down for a rather long wait.

A space filler.. ooooo.. a space filler

Hours passed, and Sven leaned his head back against the rather comfortable chair he had found stashed behind and massive desk. He supposed he dosed off some, and blearily blinked his eyes as he swept his gaze about the mess that cluttered the libray’s entrance. Or was it hall? Sven didn’t really know what to call it, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care all that much.  It was just a name any way, not matter how he looked at it.

The ringing crashes that echoed from that corner that Mark had insisted the newspapers were told him that Mark was hard at work in his search.

Served the man right. The newspaper was back at the apartment, and mark was either too stubborn, or too lazy to head back. Or too drunk to realize that the solution to his problem was far more simple that he wanted it to be.

It was not as if hours had passed since Mark and Sven arrived. Mark, thus far, was entirely fruitless from searching the library. The place was a complete mess due to the protestors doing what protestors do to government buildings when they got upset over being told what to do. Sven supposed it would be a small miracle should Mark locate a single newspaper at all, much less the one he needed.

Ah well. Can’t be helped.

Sven did not startle when he heard the soft chuckle somewhat near his elbow. He let his eyes slide to the source of the lively sound, and swallowed.

The skin of that arm was far to pale to belong to someone alive. Sven’s eyes lingered over the great blood stains on the fabric that covered that chest. Oh he knew that chest far to well to ever manage to forget it. He squeezed his eyes shut before he could see any more, but his heart hammered his chest so hard that his breath never seemed to be enough for his greedy greedy lungs.

The mirthful chuckling stopped, and silence filled his ears.

Panting, Sven cracked open his eyes. It took several heartbeat to pass before he gathered just enough courage to look beside him once more. There was no bloody body standing there, in fact, for a good long while, he found himself staring blankly at a quite ordinary, though thoroughly smashed up, wooden bookcase.

Was that what he thought it was, what it was. Sven wondered. He then mentally smacked himself for such a terrible turn of phrase. It could not have been what he thought it was. There was no way. He had to have been asleep, and that thing, that bloody thing, was just something his whiskey fuel imagination had conjoured up. He must just have that messed up of an imagination now. What with Janoos dying right under his hands and all just a few short days ago. How long had it been, really? He could not really figure at the moment.

“Nightmare fuel..” Sven muttered to himself, carefully gazing into the shadows of the smashed up room. “That’s all it is. Nightmare fuel.”

A defening crash followed by a string of cursing snapped his fearful attention back to Mark corner of the mess.

“Mark?”

“I’m fine, mate.” Mark yelled out, voice echoing against the walls. “just pissed.”

Sven heard a series of stomping sounding steps, and glanced again back to where he a seen the blood drenched clothes that draped over to too white body.

If that was any kind of ghost encounter..Sven wondered. More haunting hints from the ghost…then it may be that Janoos .Sven shook his head slowly from side to side before he could much entertain that crazy notion, and scrubbed the heels of his hands across his eyes. Sven realized that he wants something, but can not for the life of him figure for whatever it was. Janoos was dead. There could not be a thing in all the world the dead man could care all that much about when the blood that once pumped in his veins spilt all over the concrete.

Once one was dead. They are dead. And that was it.

There was not any thing else beyond that, No heaven in the sky. No fluffy clouds or winged angels nor none of that stuff. Hell, not even the fires of hell to burn you ever really exisited. If Sven knew any thing at all, he knew that for a certain fact.

“Nightmare fuel” Sven said with much more conviction in his voice than he really felt. “That’s all it  is. Nightmare fuel.”.

A space filler.. ooooo.. a space filler

Mark settled onto the couch, much more sober than he was that morning. He then let out a great gasp of air and leaned back, looking for all that bothered to watch as though he were imitating a deflating balloon.

“Sorry mate.” Sven said as he shut the door behind him.

“It’s all right. “Mark said, and Sven saw one corner of his mouth twitch down in a poor semblance of a grimace. “Not your fault them protestors did all that. “

“I didn’t see what happed.” Claire said from her seat on the other couch. “So what happened?” She added, first glancing up at Sven, then boring her eyes Mark’s way.

“Not much you missed, hon.” Sven said, and turned to shuffle into the tiny kitchen. He made sure to ruffle the head hairs of Jake as he went by his son, somehow sitting both still and quiet for once on the high chair by the dinner table. Sven did not pay the strange behavior, for a toddler, much mind, for it was what he had come to call the Way of Jake.

Jake just did things like that occasionally. There was not a rhyme nor reason to it, and it was far better for  a body to accept it than to fuss over such a petty question as “why”. There was not a  thing wrong with his son. No. Those eyes shined with both mischief and intelligence, as though the baby were listening in on every word that was spoken around him.

“Where did you go then? I think you should at the least tell me that much.”

“No where important much. Just the Library.”

“What?” Claire chuckled., and leaned onto her knees as she shook her head. “You two. Get all smashed and can barely walk in a straight line, and where you choose to go in such a damed hurry is ..the LIBRARY?”

Sven smirked.

“Sounds funny. I know.” Sven said. “Grown men.”

“Drunk grown men” Claire interrupted.

“Yeah.. it does sound a bit silly, but I had to know, ok?” Mark said with a bit of hurt in his tone. Claire swallowed back her giggles when she saw the pain flash in the man’s eyes.“There was this protest going on down there yeah? With lot and lots of people?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well. Looked like to me a few decided to smash in the library.” Mark said in a flat sort of tone. “They threw every thing all about. Shattered the doors. Smashed the shelves. All that.”

“What? Why ever for”

“Don know.”

“They were a mob.” Sven said.

“A mob?” Claire nodded, and frowned as she tasted the word. She darted her eyes to Sven, and he held her gaze for as long as he dared. ”Damn that’s..you two too a huge risk, you know.”

“Yeah. Well. We’re good now.” Sven said.

 “We went to find newspapers.” Mark supplied. “Only I could na find the section they put them in the mess.”

“So what now?” Claire asked.

“Don know” Mark replied. Sven shrugged and turned his attention back to the kitchen. He eyed the amber liquid in the large bottle sitting in it’s place at the top of the refrigerator.

 “You staying home?”

Sven took a moment, he told himself it was to properly consider Claire’s question, but he found it mighty difficult when he tore his eyes away from the bottle to open the refrigerator door. He hoped the action was enough of an answer for her, because as he rooted about the cool and lighted box for something to eat, he soon had his mouth stuff with bread.