Read Online The Legend by G. A. Augustin - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: G. A. Augustin
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with a vigorous kick. It broke off the hinges and the impact knocked the clerk across the booth. The phone fumbled from his hands.
"Is Hoyt staying here?" I growled.
"Th... Th... T hat's the log with all of the guests." He stammered while his unsteadied index finger pointed to a binder on the desk.
I snatched the binder then sifted through the pages but was unable to find his name. I checked, double checked and triple checked until I was certain I didn't overlook anything. My eagerness tapered off; I was lead down a blind alley. I bustled out of the lobby before the police showed up.
The sunlight deepened my headache. It prevented me from keeping my balance. I staggered through the congested downtown rush-hour sidewalks jostling past pedestrians as they gawked at me. "Are you okay?" "Do you need an ambulance?" I was drawing too much attention. I needed to find a place to lay low.
After scouring the neighborhood , I stumbled upon an abandoned vintage movie theater. A red letter duct taped to the doors stated "Warning: Do Not Enter. Hazardous Materials Inside." The chain lock had been snipped. I pulled the tall weighted brass door open and sauntered in.
The stench of mold was inundating. Probably wasn't good for my lungs but I doubt I could stay up for another minute. A spacious stained glass skylight allowed the morning sun to seep in. It provided me with ample visibility. The ceilings were high. Fragmented paint chips fell from them; probably contained lead which also wasn’t good for me. There was a mural of graffiti on the walls. I heard footsteps pacing about on the balcony above; probably junkies tying one on.
I continued to survey the closed down theater. There was a lofty wall with autographed black an d white photos of celebrities hanging from it. As far up as I can see were snapshots of notable '60s movie stars, comedians, athletes and entertainers. Collectors would pay top dollar for the nostalgic artwork disregarded in this theater. It seems there once was an era where citizens weren't swindled by politics. Life was easy back then. Those days are long gone.
I continued on and came upon a movie display. "You!" I growled with deep animosity. It was a towering manikin of The Legend. He donned a black cloak that veiled over his shoulders and covered his body. The cloak disposed on a stand in a perfect crescent. His face was concealed by a black mask that amplified his devilishly red eyes. The display was aged. The ensemble appeared to be moth-eaten. Behind the figurine was a cardboard cutout of a dark city with the words, "The Urban Legend" on top of one of the buildings. “The elusive ghost that has been haunting me.” He allowed Hoytsworth to get away in that alley. There's nothing I want more than to confront him but this was just a lifeless movie display.
I sauntered dow n a staircase that led me to a basement. It appears renovation work has begun down here. Fluorescent lamps illuminated the white painted walls, ceiling and white tiled floor. The intensity was unbearable. I staggered through a corridor until I came upon a door with a frosted rippled glass window. Bold black lettering decals spelling "Manager's Office" adhered to it. The door was unlocked. I made my way in. There was a bare vintage oak desk and a grubby red leather couch inside. There were also torn vintage movie posters hung on the walls. The stench of mold wasn't too bad in here. I considered the room to be a suitable place to sleep.
Ten hours passed before I awoke. I didn't anticipate I'd be out this long but I was up for twenty four hours. My headache was gone. I noticed three missed calls from Detective Bernhardt. He left me a voicemail. "Duane, I have issued a warrant for your arrest. You need to turn yourself in. That stunt you pulled at the motel was all caught on a surveillance camera..." I
"Is Hoyt staying here?" I growled.
"Th... Th... T hat's the log with all of the guests." He stammered while his unsteadied index finger pointed to a binder on the desk.
I snatched the binder then sifted through the pages but was unable to find his name. I checked, double checked and triple checked until I was certain I didn't overlook anything. My eagerness tapered off; I was lead down a blind alley. I bustled out of the lobby before the police showed up.
The sunlight deepened my headache. It prevented me from keeping my balance. I staggered through the congested downtown rush-hour sidewalks jostling past pedestrians as they gawked at me. "Are you okay?" "Do you need an ambulance?" I was drawing too much attention. I needed to find a place to lay low.
After scouring the neighborhood , I stumbled upon an abandoned vintage movie theater. A red letter duct taped to the doors stated "Warning: Do Not Enter. Hazardous Materials Inside." The chain lock had been snipped. I pulled the tall weighted brass door open and sauntered in.
The stench of mold was inundating. Probably wasn't good for my lungs but I doubt I could stay up for another minute. A spacious stained glass skylight allowed the morning sun to seep in. It provided me with ample visibility. The ceilings were high. Fragmented paint chips fell from them; probably contained lead which also wasn’t good for me. There was a mural of graffiti on the walls. I heard footsteps pacing about on the balcony above; probably junkies tying one on.
I continued to survey the closed down theater. There was a lofty wall with autographed black an d white photos of celebrities hanging from it. As far up as I can see were snapshots of notable '60s movie stars, comedians, athletes and entertainers. Collectors would pay top dollar for the nostalgic artwork disregarded in this theater. It seems there once was an era where citizens weren't swindled by politics. Life was easy back then. Those days are long gone.
I continued on and came upon a movie display. "You!" I growled with deep animosity. It was a towering manikin of The Legend. He donned a black cloak that veiled over his shoulders and covered his body. The cloak disposed on a stand in a perfect crescent. His face was concealed by a black mask that amplified his devilishly red eyes. The display was aged. The ensemble appeared to be moth-eaten. Behind the figurine was a cardboard cutout of a dark city with the words, "The Urban Legend" on top of one of the buildings. “The elusive ghost that has been haunting me.” He allowed Hoytsworth to get away in that alley. There's nothing I want more than to confront him but this was just a lifeless movie display.
I sauntered dow n a staircase that led me to a basement. It appears renovation work has begun down here. Fluorescent lamps illuminated the white painted walls, ceiling and white tiled floor. The intensity was unbearable. I staggered through a corridor until I came upon a door with a frosted rippled glass window. Bold black lettering decals spelling "Manager's Office" adhered to it. The door was unlocked. I made my way in. There was a bare vintage oak desk and a grubby red leather couch inside. There were also torn vintage movie posters hung on the walls. The stench of mold wasn't too bad in here. I considered the room to be a suitable place to sleep.
Ten hours passed before I awoke. I didn't anticipate I'd be out this long but I was up for twenty four hours. My headache was gone. I noticed three missed calls from Detective Bernhardt. He left me a voicemail. "Duane, I have issued a warrant for your arrest. You need to turn yourself in. That stunt you pulled at the motel was all caught on a surveillance camera..." I
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