Templar Legacy 05.The Sacret Vault of the Knights Templar by Preston W Child

Author:Preston W Child [Preston W Child]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-10-21T22:00:00+00:00

INTERLUDE – THE SWORD AND THE TYPEWRITER

A knock came at Howard’s door, which was odd considering he didn’t get a lot of visitors. He preferred it that way. Visitors were often just distractions from his work—the work that was constantly being watched by the things looking over his shoulder.

He had submitted many horror stories that had been published. Most had barely been noticed, and others only received some mild success. He would not have thought of himself as a world-renowned author, not with how few people actually read his work. They might have been more open to it if they learned that most of the things that he wrote about were based on the real world and on true stories, on awakening nightmares that he had experienced with his own eyes. Perhaps he should have made that more clear in his work.

Howard went to the door and opened it. A young man in a fancy suit with well-combed hair stood in the doorway.

“Mr. Lovecraft?”

“Yes?” Howard asked, more irritably than he meant to, but he could feel those hidden creatures behind him growing impatient. “Can I help you?”

“I think you can,” the man said.

When he spoke, he had a noticeable accent that Howard recognized as being British. He had heard people talk like that before on his visits to Europe.

“You sound like you are a long way from home,” Howard said, wanting to know more about the man before their conversation continued. “Where are you from?”

“Originally, I came from England. Good ear. I’ve been staying here in the States for the last few months. I have been reading and following some of your stories, and I knew that I had to see you and speak to you. I would love to hear what else you have.”

That was an odd thing to say, and Howard took notice. He did not particularly enjoy conversations with other people. He found a lot of them to be so narrow-minded and so ignorant of truths that it was impossible to actually speak with someone on a deeper level. Most people did not want to talk about the things that he wanted to talk about anyway.

“I’m sorry, but I do not engage in idle chatter about my work, though I appreciate your kind words, and I appreciate your reading. Have a good day.”

Howard closed the door in the young man’s face and did not feel any guilt about it. There was no reason to. He didn’t request any visitors, and he would much rather have preferred not to be disturbed at all. He especially didn’t like being interrupted over something so brief and pointless because it made the whole thing just a complete waste of time. He turned his back on the door, content to get back to work.

There was another rap on the door—the young man obviously didn’t get the message.

Howard was tempted to ignore it, but he didn’t like the idea of a stranger standing outside his door, directly outside of his home. It made

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