![](\"https:\/\/s.aolcdn.com\/hss\/storage\/midas\/70b860d26b9f487781bcbb37cce664f5\/202844023\/lights.png\")
<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat was that? Who was that? Why can\u2019t I move? Why won\u2019t I move\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n However his inner dialogue was cut short almost immediately by Otto\u2019s apparent audible reaction.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cWha-What was that, why did it look like that. Its eyes, Jesus John it\u2019s eyes. Do we go back for it, does it need help? John for the love of God say something.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cOtto shut up, give me a minute\u201d John interrupts, his mind racing.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n They were plagued with silence, not because neither of them wanted to talk, but because neither of them found it within themselves to do so. All John could do was grasp the metal cross that hung from his neck and rested upon his collarbone.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n John and Otto both knew that neither of them had time for this, however they couldn\u2019t move, a feeling of dread washed over both of them in the same manner that rainwater now washed over the ambulance. It was the type of dread that towered over them far more than the idea of any impending consequences that they might have received, and so they sat there. Seconds turned into a minute a minute turned into ten, their silence speaking louder than any scream that they possibly could have let out. It was almost as if they found themselves in a collective trance, whether it was one of their own making or not was not something that either of them were at liberty to say.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cAlright, we have to go,\u201d John said as he turned the keys into submission.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n The ride was tense, thoughts of both panic and confusion berated the minds of the EMT\u2019s as they arrived.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u201cThis is the place they said, right?\u201d Otto asked, finally breaking the silence.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOn the dot,\u201d John replied.<\/span><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n The house was deserted, not just by any possible residents but by any authority as well. Not a policeman or fireman in sight.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Quick Disclaimer, I’m currently suffering with covid in my bed so here is part three to a story blog that I wrote a few months ago.\u00a0 \u00a0 \u201cJOHN\u201d Otto screamed as John stomped the bottom of his worn out leather working boots upon the brake pedal. Weather from the puddle-ridden highway erupting into the air … Continue reading “Part Three”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":90,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18906"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/90"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=18906"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18906\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18925,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18906\/revisions\/18925"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18906"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18906"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18906"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}