There is a saying at Warlock’s Heath Coach Station. They say that there is no such thing as a free ride. They say that the driver always knows who has to pay. They say that everyone who rides has to pay. Freddie Thompson was a delinquent. He never went to school, it was far too dull. He wanted to be where the action was. Instead of going to school, Freddie would go to Warlock’s Heath Coach Station and play the waiting game.
The way she spoke into her tape recorder was slow and precise. Her voice echoed off the walls in the cold, musky room. The grey walls surrounding her were ominous; they trapped the eerie, unsettling presence within the space. She had a clear view of the large, dusty windows across from her. Seemingly haven’t been cleaned in years, they displayed an insidious winter scene, equal parts chilling and enchanting to the doctor. She opened her notebook and placed it on her lap, anticipating what her patient would soon tell her.
Dan’s windowpanes shook with the roaring wind outside as rock sized pellets of rain hit the glass loudly making him open the curtains to his study. He always loved nights like this where he could just listen to the calming sound of heavy rain as he tried not to despise all the homework he got from his university classes. He yawned, his mouth opening completely wide as his eyes began to droop shut the words he was reading became fuzzy. Dammit, he thought to himself, he needed to finish this paper but he gave zero shits about tax evasion and the professor of this class was probably going to fail him no matter if he wrote knowledgeably or not.