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LUCI: Rhoades to Recovery Daily Lines 11-3-2020

A little bit of what I’ve been working on during NaNoWriMo 2020.

That’s National Novel Writing Month for those of you who are unfamiliar with the shortened version. It occurs every year in November.

#LUCIRhoadesToRecovery #AmWriting #DailyLines #HectorTrevorGil

Everything seemed to be going fine until just after Trevor opened the front door. Even without being told, Hector could tell there was something very wrong as an odd sharp stink seemed to burst from the doorway, fouling the air outside.

“Oh boy,” the demon said, his voice unnaturally soft. Hector wondered where Trevor had picked up the phrase, as it was not anything he made a habit of using.

“What’s the matter,” Hector asked as he struggled out of Gil’s grasp and down onto the ground. The demon put a restraining hand on his shoulder to keep him from entering the room.

“You stay here, Hector,” she said, voice firm. There was no arguing with the gentle iron grip that held him in place. “Keep you safe.”

“It nasty mess in here now,” Trevor breathed. “You not want come in right now. Sssomeone maybe break in while gone.”

“We’re going to have to assess the damage,” Hector said, trying once again to free himself. “Standing around out here won’t help.”

This time, Trevor barred his way, placing a warty hand on Hector’s leather-jacketed chest. His touch was steady. Resolute.

“Good point and will have to see. You stay with Gil and I find out what happen here. Then we talk about you go in.”

Another of those rare times when Trevor took the lead and made the rules. Knowing how unusual such a thing that was, Hector decided to do as he was told.

“Who would be stupid enough to break in? Wouldn’t the security eye things have seen something and alerted someone? Anyone?” Hector glanced up at the mass of ichor-oozing lidless eyeball-topped stalks that were permanently fastened to the wall. “It’s not as though you could wander off for a coffee break, I suppose.”

Drip.

How did it somehow manage to appear to be embarrassed?It was not as though it had a face.

Dribble.

“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” he muttered to the thing. “Someone will always find a way to build a better mousetrap.

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