Man writes one page a day to a series of seven novels, every day, never stopping until he is finished. Horror meets modern-day Lord Of The Rings in this tale spanning 70,000 years about a twenty-four year old named Marvin and his encounters with an ancient anomaly known only as the "Harvester".
Stephen continued his stagnant, downward glare. An awkward silence soon turned pleasant as the land lord produced a series of sharp, light-hearted cackles. The air was a bit easier to breate now, and a smile returned to both of their faces. Relieved, Marvin began to pick out his greasy, black curls which had become intertwined over the course of the night. His focus was not on the conversation at all. Mr. Rhodes felt slighted and finally came out with it.
“Marvin, you were sleeping with a smile that reached from ear to ear.”
The youth swallowed a gulp of air that tasted stale and foreign. The socks on his feet had begun to grow moist once again. He wished for a bowl of Captain Crunch, but knew that breakfast wasn’t coming. The daily cycle Marvin had grown accustomed to was gone, and it couldn’t have left at a worse time. The next few months would prove trying, and any routine that he had planned on would be forgotten.
Mr. Rhodes walked a few paces to his right and stood in front of the circular window. Its wooden frame had become warped over the years, making it difficult to open. With a bit of force, the fat man pushed on the top half of the translucent ring. Cool air filtered through the gaps created, and Marvin could feel what little breeze nature had to offer. No clouds could be seen in the expanse of blue hovering above the garage. As Mr. Rhodes turned his gaze down Canal Road, he spoke once again.
“But…you had, no..you’re sure you’re not into spells and magic and stuff?”
