I rolled my eyes.
Well, okay, technically I don’t have any eyes. But the intention was there—if I had eyes, I would have been rolling them. The setup was just so tacky. Way too many candles filled the room with smoke and the few lights were draped with filmy red cloth. She had even thrown in some fancy, flowered pentagrams this time.
Really—pentagrams? Give me a break. Clearly this was a low-rent establishment, and I hated that Rose’s was the only service that saw fit to call on me so far. I was better than this, better than Rose and her ridiculous showboating, better than her cheap, boring customers and their cheap, boring lives.
Yet, here I was. I could have just ignored the summons. But I’ll admit it felt good to hear my name again. And besides, even if the work wasn’t interesting, it was still something. What can I say, writing was my life. Too bad I died.
"She comes!" someone whispered behind me. Probably Rose herself, wearing her black nylon hooded robe decorated with silver stars that she'd carefully hot-glued on the hem. Carefully, because otherwise the nylon would melt.
"Mwa ha hahahahaha-a-a-a!" I chortled. May as well give her and her cheap, boring customer a good show.
"Put the manuscript in the center of the big pentacle," Rose said in her whiskey growl, "and read the exhortation! Quickly!"
Hurried scuttling behind me. I turned slowly, emitting a few puffs of black smoke just for fun, and drew in my breath in a deep, hissing gasp. Then I spoke: "What is the word length of this manuscript which I, Miss Snark, have been summoned to read?"
Opening: Kiersten.....Continuation: Marissa Doyle