Cody Craig
New Member
CHAPTER ONE
Edward Johns sat in a window booth of Valentino's, in front of him was a huge plate of spaghetti bolognaise. Valentino's was his favourite restaurant and their spaghetti bog was his favourite dish. The bowl of spaghetti had been covered thickly with grated Parmesan cheese, just as he liked it.
He picked up his martini glass by its stem and tipped the glass to his lips. The sweet dry nectar flowed into his mouth; he swallowed and felt it warm him as it worked its way down to his stomach.
He looked across the table to his lovely wife, Bernadette. She was a sight. Dressed to the nines in a blue silk off the shoulder gown. Her long blonde locks hung from her head, caressed her shoulders and rested on top of her succulent breasts.
Edward sighed; he forked a mouthful of spaghetti into his mouth. His tastebuds exploded as the flavoursome morsels caressed them as he masticated.
Life was good, and didn't he know it. He was successful and he had a beautiful wife. What else could he wish for?
But it hadn't always been that way for Edward. It had taken him a long time to become successful; the life of a struggling psychic isn't a gracious one. He had often wondered where his next meal would be coming from, worried about how he would be able to pay next months rent and so on.
On top of the monetary problems, there were the sceptics. They always had their two bits to say about him and his, as they would put it, so called mystical powers. Criticising his work, ridiculing him in the medias and generally making it hard for him to earn an income. But he persevered and he was now reaping the benefits of his hard head and perseverance.
His success skyrocketed when CBS offered him his own television show. It quickly became one of the most watched shows on the box across America, it became so successful that pretty soon it was being watched all across the world.
The success of the show brought Edward fame and fortune, the fame and fortune had bought him Bernadette. She would have been totally out of his league if it wasn't for his money. But he didn't care about that. Even if she was only hanging around for the green, he still enjoyed her company. He knew that she didn't love him, but he wasn't sure that he loved her either. She was an accessory to him, a pretty plaything, and a toy to take to bed at nights.
Love was the only thing that his life lacked, but all the other benefits kept his mind occupied from thinking about it. He had no longing in his heart for such. He was satisfied with what he had, totally content with his life. As far as he was concerned, he was complete.
They finished their meal, Edward paid the check and they left the warmth of Valentino's. Outside the cold night air swirled around, leaves and papers were being frantically blown about. The drizzling rain was fine like mist. Bernadette pulled the front of her coat tightly together, a gust of wind caught her long hair and whipped it about recklessly.
"Wait here," said Edward. "I'll go and fetch the car."
Bernadette knew that on such a night Edward's chivalry would shine through, that's why she had suggested that they should eat at Valentino's. He would have never in a thousand years rejected a chance to dine at his favourite restaurant.
Bernadette watched with anticipation as Edward stepped from the curb onto the wet dark road. A twin beam of lights from a speeding car swung around the corner, the loud thunderous roar of its engine bellowed between the tall grey buildings. There was no screech of brakes only a solid soft thud as the speeding metallic blur flung Edward over its roof and onto the wet hard bitumen of the road below. The car sped off and vanished into the wet dark night.
Bernadette stood there and stared at Edwards bloody crumpled body.
Was he dead?
She needed to know.
Bernadette crouched down next to her husband, she reached out a hand and placed her fingers on his neck. She tried to find a pulse, but couldn't feel anything.
Am I doing it right? She wondered. She had seen pulses being taken on countless television shows, but never actually had first hand experience at taking one herself.
She moved her fingers a little and tried again, but still she couldn't find a trace of a pulsating vein. She still wasn't convinced that he was dead, not until she spotted the spreading pool of blood radiating from his lifeless body.
She couldn't believe that she was now free to do as she pleased, no one to answer to. No one to pull at her purse strings. She would be loaded, she knew that she was the sole beneficiary in his will and the extra five million dollars from his life insurance policy would be a nice little bonus. It would set her and Calvin up nicely in a beachfront mansion.
But she had no time to think about such pleasures right now. She had to act the grieving widow, the authorities would be here soon. Bernadette began to sob and cry, her blubbering and shaking would have made any film director happy.
Edward Johns sat in a window booth of Valentino's, in front of him was a huge plate of spaghetti bolognaise. Valentino's was his favourite restaurant and their spaghetti bog was his favourite dish. The bowl of spaghetti had been covered thickly with grated Parmesan cheese, just as he liked it.
He picked up his martini glass by its stem and tipped the glass to his lips. The sweet dry nectar flowed into his mouth; he swallowed and felt it warm him as it worked its way down to his stomach.
He looked across the table to his lovely wife, Bernadette. She was a sight. Dressed to the nines in a blue silk off the shoulder gown. Her long blonde locks hung from her head, caressed her shoulders and rested on top of her succulent breasts.
Edward sighed; he forked a mouthful of spaghetti into his mouth. His tastebuds exploded as the flavoursome morsels caressed them as he masticated.
Life was good, and didn't he know it. He was successful and he had a beautiful wife. What else could he wish for?
But it hadn't always been that way for Edward. It had taken him a long time to become successful; the life of a struggling psychic isn't a gracious one. He had often wondered where his next meal would be coming from, worried about how he would be able to pay next months rent and so on.
On top of the monetary problems, there were the sceptics. They always had their two bits to say about him and his, as they would put it, so called mystical powers. Criticising his work, ridiculing him in the medias and generally making it hard for him to earn an income. But he persevered and he was now reaping the benefits of his hard head and perseverance.
His success skyrocketed when CBS offered him his own television show. It quickly became one of the most watched shows on the box across America, it became so successful that pretty soon it was being watched all across the world.
The success of the show brought Edward fame and fortune, the fame and fortune had bought him Bernadette. She would have been totally out of his league if it wasn't for his money. But he didn't care about that. Even if she was only hanging around for the green, he still enjoyed her company. He knew that she didn't love him, but he wasn't sure that he loved her either. She was an accessory to him, a pretty plaything, and a toy to take to bed at nights.
Love was the only thing that his life lacked, but all the other benefits kept his mind occupied from thinking about it. He had no longing in his heart for such. He was satisfied with what he had, totally content with his life. As far as he was concerned, he was complete.
They finished their meal, Edward paid the check and they left the warmth of Valentino's. Outside the cold night air swirled around, leaves and papers were being frantically blown about. The drizzling rain was fine like mist. Bernadette pulled the front of her coat tightly together, a gust of wind caught her long hair and whipped it about recklessly.
"Wait here," said Edward. "I'll go and fetch the car."
Bernadette knew that on such a night Edward's chivalry would shine through, that's why she had suggested that they should eat at Valentino's. He would have never in a thousand years rejected a chance to dine at his favourite restaurant.
Bernadette watched with anticipation as Edward stepped from the curb onto the wet dark road. A twin beam of lights from a speeding car swung around the corner, the loud thunderous roar of its engine bellowed between the tall grey buildings. There was no screech of brakes only a solid soft thud as the speeding metallic blur flung Edward over its roof and onto the wet hard bitumen of the road below. The car sped off and vanished into the wet dark night.
Bernadette stood there and stared at Edwards bloody crumpled body.
Was he dead?
She needed to know.
Bernadette crouched down next to her husband, she reached out a hand and placed her fingers on his neck. She tried to find a pulse, but couldn't feel anything.
Am I doing it right? She wondered. She had seen pulses being taken on countless television shows, but never actually had first hand experience at taking one herself.
She moved her fingers a little and tried again, but still she couldn't find a trace of a pulsating vein. She still wasn't convinced that he was dead, not until she spotted the spreading pool of blood radiating from his lifeless body.
She couldn't believe that she was now free to do as she pleased, no one to answer to. No one to pull at her purse strings. She would be loaded, she knew that she was the sole beneficiary in his will and the extra five million dollars from his life insurance policy would be a nice little bonus. It would set her and Calvin up nicely in a beachfront mansion.
But she had no time to think about such pleasures right now. She had to act the grieving widow, the authorities would be here soon. Bernadette began to sob and cry, her blubbering and shaking would have made any film director happy.
