Young Writers Society

It's bright inside as if someone centered the sun right in the middle of the entrance. Wyatt kind of likes that all the windows are open. White suits the place, everything just seem cleaner this way. Back home, everything had a color. From drapes to cushions, than to China to rugs. There's not a spec of color, except for antiques sitting on shelves. Drizzled in artists sweat and blood.

The woman sends them both into a living room. The floor is covered with an off white carpet and the room has four spectacular windows. A pair of big windows on opposite walls, they're about half the height of Wyatt and Garry.  Centering the white room is a stiff white couch, well it looked uncomfortable- to Wyatt. Five baby pillows lapping each other across the couch. They weren't white though, the pillows have little black on them and two of the five pillows are just pink.

“You a Christian man?” Wyatt gestures to one of the black pillows with a white cross in the center.

“My wife is,” Garry smiles to Wyatt. Wyatt oh’s the man and nods, pretending like none of these things bother him when it really does. “You will be meeting her later though,” Garry adds. The room smells of deodorized carpet, fresh heat mildly rising from it. He can see the rows of streaks used by a vacuum. It must have been used before they got there. There's clicking of soles moving towards them, from Garry's left. Two ladies enter through the arches, one of them holding a silver platter and the other has a pouch flung over her shoulder.

Both are beautiful women, but not as nearly as beautiful as the woman who answered the door earlier. He really wants to know her name, he's just not sure if it's really a good idea. Getting any closer to another woman might distract him from Marie, that was a choice he was willing to make. The two beautiful woman almost resemble the woman from the door, except their hair. From the two woman standing-unoccupied- the one on the right is a blonde with straight hair and bangs to her brows. The woman on the left of the blonde is a brunette with frizzled hair with her part centered.

Wyatt's eyes focus away from the women and to Garry, who's walking towards them. Their lifeless bodies gear into action and the woman with the platter steers it towards Garry, and the woman with the pouch fishes for something inside of her bag. A handful of white cloths and a vile rest in the blonde's hand. Garry's hand reaches towards his open mouth.

A loud gulp comes from Garry and a compact of saliva flings out his mouth along with a removal plate of teeth. Wyatt creeps up behind Garry, leaning over his shoulder and eying the platter. Rotten dentures, reddened gums missing few teeth and yellow teeth with black smudges at the roof of it.

“What is that?” He reaches over Garry's shoulder and point to the disgusting teeth. “Are those dentures?” They couldn't be though, they were missing teeth. He thinks to himself.

“Waxed teeth actually,” his lies are just too much for Wyatt. The thought in trusting this man is even more confusingly existing than Time Travel itself. Wyatt steps back from Garry's comfort zone and begins walking through the living room and to the door in which they came from. Garry's eyes travel in Wyatt's direction and he finds himself following behind Wyatt calling for him. “Please, hear me out.”

“Why, so you can lie to me?”

“I never told a lie, I simply kept these things to myself. You can understand right, you hide things from people all the time?” Wyatt shrugs, he does have a point. He just didn't like he hid things from him. Wyatt feels he's losing himself, instead of trusting his gut and so forth his heart. He's trusting his brain and the brain is the easiest thing to fool and Garry is just doing that. Why is he the hardest person to read, maybe I'm over thinking things? Wyatt frowns at the thought and shrugs.

If he does leave, there is no other place to stay besides the streets. He didn't think of bringing money, he didn't even think he would end up in the wrong year! Everything didn't play out in his head like he thought. The thought makes the decision making harder to decide.

“Wyatt, please. You need a doctor,”Garry points at all his wounds. The calf with the blood smear all over this pants, his burnt flesh and his stench that airs the room. “One night, please.” Garry only needs one night to convince Wyatt to stay longer- if only that could sound like a good thing to Wyatt. He agrees and the three women- the blonde, the woman from earlier who answered the door and the brunette, assures that Wyatt reaches a swirling staircase.

It's bright inside, as if someone centered the sun right in the middle of the entrance and thought it's a great idea to blind people right when they walk in. Strangely enough, Wyatt kind of liked that all the windows are open. White suits the place, everything just seem cleaner this way. Back home, everything had a color. From drapes to cushions, than to China to rugs etc. There's not a spec of color, except for antiques sitting on shelves. Drizzled in artists sweat and blood.

The woman sends them both into a living room. The floor is covered with an off white carpet. There are four spectacular windows. A pair of big windows on opposite walls, they're about half the height of Wyatt and Garry and as wide as a double-dresser. Centering the white room is a white stiffen couch, well it looked uncomfortable- to Wyatt. Five baby pillows lapping each other across the couch. They weren't white though, the pillows have little black on them and two of the five pillows are just pink.

“You a Christian Man?” Wyatt gestures one of the black pillows with a white cross in the center.

“My wife is,” Garry smiles to Wyatt. Wyatt oh’s the man and nods, pretending like none of these things bother him when it really does. “You will be meeting her later though,” Garry adds. The room smells of deodorized carpet, fresh heat mildly rising from it. He can see the rows of streaks used by a vacuum. It must have been used before they got there. There's clicking of soles moving towards them, from Garry's left. Two ladies enter through the arches, one of them holding a silver platter and the other has a pouch flung over her shoulder.

Both are beautiful women, but not as nearly as beautiful as the woman who answered the door earlier. He really wants to know her name, he's just not sure if it's really a good idea. Getting any closer to another woman might distract him from Marie, that was a choice he was willing to make. The two beautiful woman almost resemble the woman from the door, except their hair. From the two woman standing-unoccupied- the one on the right is a blonde with straight hair and bangs to her brows. The woman on the left of the blonde is a brunette with frizzled hair with her part centered.

Wyatt's eyes focuses away from the women and to Garry, who's walking towards them. They're lifeless body gears into action and the woman with the platter steers it towards Garry and the woman with the pouches fishes for something inside of her bag. A handful of white cloths and a vile rest in the blonde's hand. Garry's hand reaches towards his open mouth.

A loud gulp comes from Garry and a compact of saliva flings out his mouth along with a removal plate of teeth. Wyatt creeps behind Garry, leaning over his shoulder and eying the platter. Rotten dentures, redden gums missing few teeth and yellow teeth with black smudges at the roof of it.

“What is that?” He reaches over Garry's shoulder and point to the disgusting teeth. “Are those dentures?” They couldn't be though, they were missing teeth. He thinks to himself.

“Waxed teeth actually,” his lies are just too much for Wyatt. The thought in trusting this man is even more confusingly existing than Time Travel itself. Wyatt steps back from Garry's comfort zone and begins walking through the living room and to the door in which they came from. Garry's eyes travel in Wyatt's direction and he finds himself following behind Wyatt calling for him. “Please, hear me out.”

“Why, so you can lie to me?”

“I never told a lie, I simply kept these things to myself. You can understand right, you hide things from people all the time?” Wyatt shrugs, he does have a point. He just didn't like he hid things from him. Wyatt feels he's losing himself, instead of trusting his gut and so forth his heart. He's trusting his brain and the brain is the easiest thing to fool and Garry is just doing that. Why is he the hardest person to read, maybe I'm over thinking things? Wyatt frowns at the thought and shrugs.

If he does leave, there is no other place to stay besides the streets. He didn't think of bringing money, he didn't even think he would end up in the wrong year! Everything didn't play out in his head like he thought. The thought makes the decision making harder to decide.

“Wyatt, please. You need a doctor,”Garry points at all his wounds. The calf with the blood smear all over this pants, his burnt flesh and his stench that airs the room. “One night, please.” Garry only needs one night to convince Wyatt to stay longer- if only that could sound like a good thing to Wyatt. He agrees and the three women- the blonde, the woman from earlier who answered the door and the brunette, assures that Wyatt reaches a swirling staircase.