~*~*~*Kong Studios*~*~*~
Murdoc walked into the
living room with a bottle of black vodka in one hand and a stack of mail in the
other. He began to look through the stack dropping them one by one onto the
table.
“Letter to 2D. Letter to 2D.
Bill. Letter to 2D. Satanist Today. Letter to Russel. Bill. Letter to Noodle.
Interview request for 2D. You may have won a million pounds. Bill. Letter to
2D. Letter to me. What?”
He pushed the letter that
covered his; he found it and picked it up in his rough hands. The letter’s
envelope was once white; but now it was grimy and had specks of what looked of
dry blood. There was no writing except his address in scratched writing; he
carefully looked at every detail of the envelope as if to find some clue he
could use to discover the sender. He began to open the letter…
“Any letters for me?” 2D
said as he walked into the room. “Just the ones you sent to yourself, dullard.”
Murdoc growled. He noticed the envelope Murdoc was clutching. “What’s that?”
Murdoc just stared at 2D. “None of your bloody damn business,” He said as he
left to his winnebago still holding the red speckled letter in his hands.
“Murdoc?” 2D stared at the back of the fleeing bassist, with a confused but
frighten look on his face.
~*~*~*Murdoc’s Winnebago*~*~*~
As he sat on his bed, he
began what he had started in the living room, to open the letter. He noticed
the single note. It was scribbled on a scrap of paper and looked written in a
hurry.
Murdoc,
Midnight. Tonight. Come alone. You know the spot. We will be
waiting, but not for long. It’s starting all over again.
The only other thing on the letter, other than the writing, was a blood-red thumbprint as a signature. He flipped the letter to see if there was more, yet he knew that there wasn’t. He knew that his past was coming back with vengeance.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
Pick your poison:
Or