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"SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES."

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Posts Tagged: '%E2%80%A0+francis+winther'

Sep. 25th, 2020

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Sep. 25th, 2020 at 9:26 AM

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A Hard Sale

FRANCIS WINTHER + SAUL TARSUS
The doc tries to move on with a little help from Saul.

SEPTEMBER 25, 2020 | VELOUR & VARNISH | WARNING: A SAD MAN

( Read more... )
It was beyond all of Francis' comprehension as to why today of all days was the day he woke up feeling ready to make a change. A minor change, sure, but a change that had to be made. One of the gals at the office suggested he do some serious home redecorating, even hiring the local interior designer, and he had considered her words carefully. Originally, he planned to call the designer at lunch to set up a consultation and see what she had to say in regards to his home. Instead, he was staring at the fine China set out for display on the kitchen hutch. Diana had been so excited to put it all up after their wedding. They had ordered the hutch from a company in Vermont that sold authentic Amish furniture. The China was from a mutual friend.

"We got it at the flea market if you could believe it!"

It was the only thing of importance Francis could recall about it. They had never used it. Not once. Not that they'd been married all that long or had enough events together to warrant the use. No. It barely got to see the light of day because Francis wasn't ever going to use it on his own and felt no need to keep it without Diana. So that damnable China glaring down at him from the hutch whenever he passed through the kitchen-dining space seemed like a good place to start in the "cleanse" of his life. Baby steps. Something he didn't like or care for could go, right? Easy, right?

Not easy.

At first Francis didn't really think about what he was doing. It was a decision he made and promptly began to take each piece down, layering them up with sheets of polystyrene between each saucer, plate, and cup. About halfway through it seemed to sink in, sending Francis down a dark path where he battled with himself between putting it all back up and chickening out or finishing what he was doing and getting it out of the house. It has no importance. Diana just liked it. She liked a lot of things. It has no value. It wasn't used. Our friends wouldn't ever know. I'll tell them it's in the attic. Yeah. The attic... A grueling forty-five minutes later Francis was standing outside of the local antique shop looking at the door feeling a bit like he might be sick. His stomach was in knots. Do it. He squint at the sign, then through the front windows to admire the arrangement. Do it. He pulled a few faces, chewing his lip and scrunching his nose. Stalling. DO. IT. FRANCIS.

The doctor stepped forward and wrenched open the door with his left hand, a twinkly bell ringing as he did so.

Tags: saul tarsus, † francis winther

Sep. 10th, 2020

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Highway to Hell? | Czernabog Plot

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Sep. 10th, 2020 at 4:59 PM

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CRUISIN' FOR A BRUISIN'

FRANCIS WINTHER + ALLEGRA HANLON
Taking a simple drive during a total blackout isn't so simple.

SEPTEMBER 10, MORNING | OUTSKIRTS OF TOWN | PG-13 FOR LANGUAGE, SOME VIOLENCE

( Read more... )
Francis had been sitting in absolute silence on the back porch of his home waiting for the sun to come up. As per his usual routine he would get up, have a cup of coffee, take a jog, grab a shower, and eat a little something on the way to work. Today that routine was interrupted somewhere between a cup of coffee and a jog. Sometimes when it was a beautiful day out, the temperature was warm but the humidity low, Francis would have a seat on the screened porch with his coffee and read up on emails or the latest health article. So per his routine he filled his mug and shuffled his way to the comfortable Adirondack on the porch, sat back, and began to scroll through the large tablet screen. This was back at around 4:50AM, so it didn't feel too unusual that the sun wasn't up yet.

Though, it still felt unusually dark for five o'clock. Francis didn't take much notice until after he dressed for his jog and stepped outside an hour later. That was really when the doctor thought something was amiss and not just from cloud cover. There was no sun in sight even though it should be breaching the horizon at seven. The morning twilight was one of his favorites! Where had it gone? The local news didn't seem phased by it, nothing came up wrong on their weather radar. In fact, today was supposed to be only slightly overcast, high in the mid 80s.

So if that were the case...why was it practically midnight out?

Francis sighed heavily to himself and turned around to go back inside after taking in a good whiff of the air. Wrong. Everything was just wrong and it made the hair on his neck stand up. In one smooth motion he picked up his tablet and began to swirl his finger around over the letters to send out a message. The first was to his pack mates warning them of the unusual situation and commanding them to stay in for safety. A Beta's job was not so simple when it came to emergencies. He wasn't really the decision maker as much as he was the executor of said decisions. So, here he was. Executing. The second message was a broad email to patients that the clinic would open after 1PM. He had to investigate the situation, first. He followed up his messages with a call to his father and to his head at the front desk to notify staff of the day's change. They would need to begin coordinating the schedule. All along the while he paused to respond to Allegra, the first to jump on a road trip.

After changing out of his jogging attire into his regular business casual--a light blue, short sleeve button-up and khaki's--he stepped into the garage. The garage door opened with the usual loud rumble of chain rolling up the long aluminum slats that made up the entry. The light came on to fill the space, flooding the garage and pushing out the darkness from outside, revealing his beautiful red Cadillac with the top still down from his leisurely drive over the weekend. Francis smiled at it, always glad to see his hard work looking so fabulous, before swinging the door open and closed to get in. The engine revved with a classical purr, headlights flicking on, and the subtle click of a gear change as the car was reversed to back up out of its parking space.

The drive to pick up Allegra was the weirdest one Francis had ever been on. Total darkness. If it weren't for the clean yellow headlights on the Cadillac he wouldn't have been able to see a thing. In fact it felt incredibly unsafe to even be driving in this kind of condition. Arriving at the record store about ten-past-eight Francis could safely say his hands had not held the steering wheel so tightly since he was a teen learning to drive! He let go and cracked his knuckles, squinting to look at them right before his face to see how pale his flesh had gotten from that hearty grip.

"This is not going to be as quick a drive as I thought," Francis said to himself as he wait for his detective partner appeared. Assuming he could see her, of course.