Dolores Esteban
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Simon was semiconscious. He was cold, his limbs were numb, and his muscles were tensed, but Simon did not pay attention. He felt dizzy and his thoughts were incoherent. The piece of cloth in his mouth had almost choked him. Simon was scared and frightened. He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard the door open again. Simon’s muscles stiffened even more when he sensed a hand on his shoulder. Someone turned him on his side and then seized his hands that were fastened on his back.
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Thanks for reading! Glad you like the story.
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Yes, time is running out fast. Unfortunately, Jason and Leonard have not yet figured out the plot. Thanks for the feedback.
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Well, he's eighteen, was sent to the cloister at age 13. Simon reminds me of my 18 year old niece, a kind, polite, good-natured girl, but totally naive. She'd not even make it to Paris alone. Many thanks again for reading and leaving a review.
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It was about noon when Leonard and Jason arrived at Saint-Denis, a commune in the northern suburbs of Paris. Jason’s navigation system led them to the Basilica of St. Denis. Jason parked the car. They climbed out and walked the short distance to the church. They stopped and looked at the impressive cathedral. "I have no idea how we can dig here deep in the past," Jason said. "Let’s visit the cathedral," Leonard replied. "Perhaps an idea occurs to us." They entered the building, stopped for
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Simon moved through the streets. He tried to walk like a woman and he forced himself to walk slowly and make shorter steps. Nobody spoke to him, nobody paid attention, but Simon was feeling insecure. He was certain that all eyes rested on him and that everybody saw through his disguise and his plan. He stopped at some distance of the town’s northern exit and watched the people enter the town or leave it. The watchmen didn’t pay much attention and looked disinterestedly at the people. The watch
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"We’re getting closer to our goal," Leonard said contentedly as they joined L’Autoroute du Nord. "No bad dreams last night, Jason?" he asked with a sideways glance. "No," Jason replied. "No dream, no voice, absolutely nothing. I slept like a baby." Leonard gave a laugh. "My bed was very comfortable. The house is beautiful and the lady is amiable. I wonder what she sees in Lambert." "Love moves in mysterious ways," Jason said lightly. "Isn’t it ‘The Lord moves in mysterious ways’?" Leonar
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Simon was thinking. What could he do? A hasty escape, a panic-stricken flight would only play into the monk's hands. Four roads led out of town, one in each cardinal direction. Four roads and four monks. Simon was sure they were watching the town’s exits. He would never make it to England. He would never find the man Jason within only one week, but he could not hide in Paris for a long time either. A thought came to his mind. What if he returned to Saint-Denis, confided to the abbot and repented
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Yes, and things will be getting worse for him soon. Many thanks again for reading and commenting.
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Yes, Simon is in a lot of trouble. And Jason and Leonard will soon find out that they have touched on something that hasn't died out. There is yet time, but time is running out fast. Thanks again for reading.
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Antoine Lambert took off his glasses and wiped them. He put them on again and looked between Jason and Leonard sceptically. "This all sounds very weird to me, messieurs, and usually I’d shrug it off, but you came all the way from London to Paris just in order to talk with me. I can offer you to do some research. In fact, I already have an idea where to start with. And more so, I already have a general idea where my research will lead me to," he said. He looked between them. "I've studied churc
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Simon arrived at Paris. He led the mare down the cobbled streets that were crowded although night had already fallen. This, Simon knew, meant that the king, Henri I, was currently residing in Paris. Merchants had come to the town in order to sell their goods and buy others, and all of them hoped to make a good bargain. Simon looked around. Many booths and market stalls were still opened and people were bargaining with the merchants. Simon had witnessed this as a boy when he had come to Paris wit
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Thanks again for reading and reviewing. Glad you like it so far.
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I'm happy you like the story so far. Many thanks for reading and reviewing.
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I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far. Yes, Simon's fate is very sad. One chapter was hard to write, but I had to. It's essential to the story. Thanks again for reading and leaving a comment.
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There is yet time! The cry was ear-splitting. Jason awoke with a start. His ears were ringing and the words echoed in his mind. He sat up in his bed and switched on the light. He sat silently until the words faded away. Jason wiped the sweat from his forehead. The cry had been urgent, pleading and desperate. The man in his dream had called out to him again. Jason felt driven to act, to do something, if only he knew what to do. He got up and poured a glass of water. He drank it slowly, and then,
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A week had passed and so far Simon had not found the door to the secret chamber open again. Whenever he sneaked into the scriptorium, early in the morning, at lunch time when the other monks had already assembled, or at night, the door to the secret chamber was always locked. Simon grew more and more nervous. Had somebody already found out that the parchment was missing? For a couple of days, he had hidden it in the sleeve of his robe, but then he had looked for a safer place to hide it. He plac
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Jason finally went back to his apartment. He let in fresh air, and then he showered, dressed and made himself a meal. He ate an enormous pile of scrambled eggs and ham directly from the pan. He saw the package of psychotropic drugs, picked it up, but then placed it back on the kitchen counter. He would not need the pills anymore. Jason called the doctor’s assistant and cancelled his appointment at the end of the week. He was not insane, he was not distressed nor was he burned out nor did memorie
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Ghost of a Chance New England, 1812. I stood in the background until people were leaving the cemetery. Fitzgerald's sons, his wife and her parents were the last who walked away. Mayor Montgomery had held a speech, a sad and touching eulogy. Samuel Cullen, the apothecary, had put a flower wreath beside the entrance of the crypt. I later read the words on the crapes. Solemn words, carefully picked from the Bible. I watched his family leave. Mary Fitzgerald was crying. Her father placed an arm
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Reginald Fitzgerald died of arsenic poisoning. A fatal accident? Mayor Montgomery has doubts.
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This would make a really good story.
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Yes, I know. But imagine the man who put the document into the box. Greasy fingers seized the parchment or maybe the man sneezed at it. A fatal sneeze it was. Many thanks for reading and reviewing!
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Thanks for reading and leaving a comment. I'm happy you liked the first chapters of the story.
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Saint-Denis, France, 1012. Dawn was just breaking and the first light of the morning illuminated his cell. Simon rose from his bed. His bare feet touched the stone floor. It was cold in the room and Simon was shivering. He reached out and picked his worn robe from a stool. The wool was rough, but the garment served its purpose. Simon put on the robe and slipped into his sandals, and then he left his cell and hurried down the deserted corridor of the monastery. He was late again. He had not hea
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The Prophecy by Dolores Esteban "The end of the world is nigh. Leadenly dark lies on the time, twined the hours, in stranglehold the minutes." Hear my call. There is yet time! *** London, 2012. Jason awoke with a start. It had happened again. Sweat covered his forehead and his body was trembling. He was cold despite the warm summer night. He had awoken again from a dream, an almost nightmare. The images were vivid and they were frightening him. They were the same always,
