Drake

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[11]-The familiar

Lyn

Lyn released an exasperated sigh. She stretched her arms into the air and sat back against her chair. A blank computer screen rested in front of her. The white dress shirt and black skirt became more cumbersome as the day progressed. She lifted her high ponytail and let it fall back down onto her back.

Who came up with this nine to five shit?

“Lyn?”

She looked above to see a man leaning against her cubicle. A thin man with wavy red hair and freckles, the perfect boy next door. He eyed her intensely.

She faked a smile. “Archie.”

Archie had a smirk. “How about you let me take you out to dinner tonight? There’s this perfect spot down by the river-”

Lyn shook her head. “That’s very kind of you, but I can’t,” she lied, “you should ask Allison. She’s been dying for you to ask her.”

Archie shrugged but conceded defeat. He sauntered down the hall before disappearing around the corner. Lyn gathered her things before leaving for the day. Being the senior analyst at Interpol often meant she was the first one there and last to leave. Her chariot awaited her in the parking garage, a green 1970 Firebird with the top chopped. She smiled in delight as the engine roared to life.

Drake’s face flashed in her mind. His bright smile like the morning sun. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pelted him with kisses after receiving her birthday present. The Firebird freshly waxed and straight out of the factory. Delivered with a bow on top. A stray tear escaped her eyes and she held herself tightly. In the thirty years Drake hibernated, all she had were precious memories and the car to remember him by. She blessed him daily for finding her all those years ago in France.

Dawn approached, a bright red orb known as the sun began to rise over the horizon from the east. Its rays began to slowly scatter the thick blanket of morning fog that covered the countryside. A prominent mountain stood before the sun, its very tip carving the scarlet sky. Leaves rustled, twigs snapped on the ground as Lyn hurried through the forest. She ran blindly, crashing through the canopy of branches before her. On several occasions, she tumbled and rolled, bruising her face, and scraping her knees. Her colorful dress embedded with ribbons and sashes was ravaged.

She stumbled into a clearing obscured by the morning mist. On this very day, Lyn’s life would change forever. A single white lily grew in the middle of the clearing. Lyn collapsed to her knees before it, her breaths were labored. “Why are you blooming all alone in a place like this?”

The flower remained silent, its stem and white petals glittered from morning dew. Lyn’s face grew dark with anger. “So you’re not gonna talk to me either!”

She reached for the flower with malicious intent to tear its roots from the ground. “Forget it! It’s not like anyone will see you here-!”

“That will do,” a voice said to her, as tranquil as rippling waves.

Drake stood before her with glaring red eyes and olive-colored skin. His dark hair was short and curly. Lyn wiped her eyes. Was she dreaming? There was no way any human could be so beautiful. He certainly wasn’t a German which relieved her, but he wasn’t French either. Judging by his fine clothes she deduced he was either a politician or businessman thriving off the spoils of war.

He approached her and smiled crookedly. “Maybe, just maybe. There is no purpose in life. But if you linger a while longer in this world, you might discover something of value in it. Like, how you found that flower there. Or, how I discovered you one fateful day,” he chuckled lightly and caressed her bloody cheeks. “Come now, it’s time to go little one…”

Lyn blushed, she took his hand as a blast of sunshine with all its radiance hit her face. And for the first time in a long time. She felt human again. She felt alive.



The ringing of a cell phone startled her. Lyn jumped from her seat gripping the steering wheel. She sighed in relief and checked her screen. She gasped at the message, dropping her phone. Not a moment later her car flew from the garage as Lyn raced through traffic disregarding any and every rule of the road. Traffic lights and stop signs were invisible to her. She weaved through traffic passing by slower cars. Which was every car…

Traffic officers patrolling the streets turned a blind eye to Lyn’s antics. She wasn’t worried though. They owned the entire police force, even the prime minister. Her car found the nearest exit to Paris, some three hundred miles away.

He’s finally awake...

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