My Story Sect 01

Section 01

The following story started out as a character project I had to do in high school. I liked what I came up with so much I expanded on it several times since then. Now nearly eight years later I am possibly finishing it. This is just the very beginning of this story as I have much more to post. I want to hear your reactions, comments, and critiques please. Tell me what mood it left you in and what questions you have as it comes to it's first stopping point. If a majority of readers like what I have posted so far I will post more and more of what I have as days go on. Enjoy...

He sits alone in his two-story loft atop a building he owns on fourth street midway between Lombard and South Streets. Despite more than adequate insulation he can still hear the bustling activity one block away on South Street. Although he has friends in many places he prefers the solitude and comfort of his home. It is simply his way since he feels he share little in common with most of his friends. To be more accurate they are more along the lines of acquaintances then friends with maybe three exceptions. He sits in a reclined black leather chair illuminated only by his many plasma screens all showing different channels. It seems there is never anything but despair and acts of war before him on all the news channels so he concentrates on the four that are showing cartoons and comedy shows. The TV's are muted. Through small speakers built into the walls throughout his flat comes "Dicitencello Vuie" in an attempt to drown out the sound and commotion of the city. Despite the darkness of the room you can still see his features which nearly give away his preternatural being.

They blue light given off by the plasma accentuates his pale skin. So smooth like ivory but not quite as white his fine skin shows no sign of wrinkles. Gravity and time have not taken their toll on him. To look at him you would swear he is no older than 23, 25 at the very most. His long blonde locks lay just beyond his shoulder. So many hairstyles in his long years but this it seems suites him best. His eyes are a chilling blue color but at times streaks of green and yellow invade his irises. Standing at a mere five feet and ten inches he is an average height today but seemed a giant not so long ago. Lost in his lonely stair he is brought out of his daydreams by a knock at the door.

"Volume down, lights on," He says to his fully automated home. "Door view." With that a 13-inch screen besides the door shows it is one of his tenants. "Da?" he says through his intercom system. This system is merely a formality however. He knew before the knock came who was at his door. His precognition and ability to read minds is far beyond that of anything ever imagined or written about in any book or tale. He is able to turn this gift on and off. In the distant past before learning control it he was bombarded with others thoughts and visions. Now he is able to think and operate with no outside stimuli entering whenever he wants.

"Meester Rowan," Says Nikolai the Russian immigrant with a heavy accent. He lives two floors below, "I have ze rent moneys zat I owe you."

"Ahh priviet Nikolai, won't you come in?" He speaks in very fluent Russian, which immediately impressed his new tenant when he applied for the apartment. "Door open." With that his door slides to the side and Nikolai enters Mr. Rowan's lavish loft. Everywhere are antiques from nearly all time periods. He sees stuff he only read about in history books. The walls are lined with weapons from all cultures and eras. Amongst these weapons however are very few fire arms. The firearms present however are vary rare indeed. A large section of the flat is closed in but the glass is a weird light tan colour and nothing can be seen through them. These take up vast space in this primarily open room. The building itself takes up an entire city block. Of that block these rooms take up ¾ of that on the lower floor and only a hallway dividing the rooms is upstairs.

After admiring his landlord’s apartment for a moment a brief friendly conversation is carried out in Nikolai's native tongue. Although Mr. Rowan's Russian is perfect, every now and then Nikolai hears an unfamiliar word and has never been able to place his exact dialect. It is almost like what you would read if looking at something written in the 17 or 16 hundreds but still fluent none the less. He excuses his tenant as it is nearly time for a business meeting between him and zoo keeper turned board member from the Philadelphia Zoo.

After his tenant leaves he begins preparing for his dinner guest by showering and dressing in black silk pants and a fine blue linen shirt with a pair of black lamb skin quarter shoes. It is now time for him to prepare dinner consisting of wine basted Cornish hens and an assortment of vegetables. His many televisions now sit unpowered and only the sounds of a more upbeat violin concerto float through the air. This dinner guest is coming to hopefully accept another donation of funds and perhaps animals from our gentleman, Nicodaemus. He has been a benefactor to the zoo for quite some time. In 1995 when the primate house was ravaged by fire he donated nearly 1/3 of the funds to build the new three-acre state of the art facility. He also donated a few rare African Antelopes from a preserve he owns in Mozambique. And since Miss Gillian Kimber has been an employee of the zoo after a two-year internship all of Nicodaemus' dealings have been with her. Her very successful business relationship with Mr. Rowan was the catalyst to her here to for unheard of position on the Board of Directors for the Philly Zoo. No man or woman had ever been promoted so quickly. Despite her new position she still maintained her status as a zookeeper in the cathouse. Although her true passion was with these large carnivores she was well versed in nearly ever creature in the park and had a secret love for reptiles.

As a child she took frequent trips to museums and fell in love with dinosaurs. This later translated into a love for reptiles. As she grew older she was drawn to the large predators of the jungles and plains and studied quite extensively at the University of Pennsylvania in all aspects of animal biology, husbandry, and health care. It was in her first year at the University when she had a near death experience.

She and a girlfriend were taking a leisurely walk in the ninth street market when they were mugged. Being a fighter Gillian did not want to give her purse up and was rewarded with a gunshot to the chest. She lay dead by the time the ambulance arrived. She was miraculously revived on the way to the hospital and was up and moving around in under a week. The doctors could not explain how this her heart had healed so rapidly even after being pierced by the slug they removed from her chest. More amazing than that, by three months she had no scar and with out reading her medical records there was no indication the incident had ever occurred. It was this incident in 1993 that prompted Mr. Rowan to return to Philadelphia from his plantation sized estate in Ecuador.

Upon reading about this occurrence in the papers he had sent to him weekly from the states he took an immediate interest in Ms. Kimber. In fact, unknown to her it was with his influence that she received her intern position at the zoo in only her third year of college above 1500 other applicants. Despite being helped along she more than earned her seat in this position and her following fulltime position as a keeper and now as a member of the board.

Nicodaemus was snapped back to the present by the sound of the doorbell. He knew instantly who it was. Not because he could read the visitor's mind but quite the contrary, he could not. Gillian is the only person in all his years that had a mind completely closed to him. After checking his monitor he manually opened the door and welcomed her into his home. Until now all of their business meetings had been at various restaurants some at fine restaurants other little family places Nicodaemus frequented.

The first thing to greet her was the warm smell of dinner that was moment away from being finished. She then turned her attention to all the weapons and vases and paintings that outfitted his city home. She has always liked history and found it very hard to believe all these objects could be genuine. Also on his walls were many photographs new and old along with old hand painted portraits with what must have been relatives in them. Perhaps uncles or grandfathers and distant relatives given some of the images content and aged appearances. Not wanting to seem too nosey, she then focused on her host for this evening. As with every time she had met him before this one she was enchanted by his beauty. He seemed such an elegant man. Every movement he made was graceful and deliberate.

His eyes were very much like her own although her eyes had a slight almond shape. He reminded her of paintings she saw of ancient Greek artwork in museums. When she thought more about it he not only reminded her but also actually looked like some figures she saw in paintings from that time. She passed it off as him having a classic look. Classic and so seductive was his look she found it even harder to draw her attention from him. After she pried her eyes and thoughts from him she focused her attention on the odd glass rooms. When Nicodaemus realized the new center of her attention, he grinned.

He walked towards the enclosures and flipped what must have been the only light switch in his home. This switch was no light switch she realized. When he flipped it down it opened the circuit that had been supplying electricity to the opaque tan windows. With electricity removed the substance in the glass began to clear up turning them crystal clear. The clarity was because the windows were not glass but actually two panes of clear acrylic with a liquid crystalline fluid between them sensitive to electrical currents. Gillian became breathless and nearly fainted when she realized what she was seeing on the other side of the various glass rooms.