Grave plot with several broken and toppled stone crosses near castle once known as Camelot, 877 AD

"Rise, Sir Owain, to do your duty to this world! You may be dead, but your work is not done. Rise, I command thee!"

The large, heavily cloaked figure with the bony hands, very large, razor sharp scythe and eyes of flaming red, had to repeat the call.

"Rise, Sir Owain, I call you forth to walk among the people again, to do a duty that might, over time, calm your troubled soul. Rise!"

That Sunday night was a quiet one for all of us. I surprised mom and dad by making no protest when dad said I needed to be in bed. I'm not sure, but that may be due to the feelings Allison and I have been going through since that jerk Dawtrim tried to kidnap us Thursday night.

Anyhow I was in bed a few minutes later and soon asleep, that sleep broken by dreams several times. Most of the dreams, well, the ones that I could remember when I woke up, were about Dawtrim and had him successfully kidnapping and abusing us. Scary shit, oh, yeah!

FYI: This is NOT a sequel to the story I posted earlier today.

In the dress shop two weeks before Prom.

Mother: It’s a lovely dress and you just look fabulous in it but it’s really expensive, James.

James: Mom! It’s not MY fault we’re here!