The Epoch of the Invisible Man
Port Burdock, West Sussex, 1897
Hmm...I can't quite seem to decide whether or not day one of my reign or terror was a success or not...
Amid the commotion and chaos that was occurring in the streets outside of the empty inn, no one noticed that a dilapidated wooden chair appeared to be scrapping across the floor out of its own freewill and settling itself neatly by the grimy window at the front of the establishment. That unusual scene was followed by another string of oddities as a disembodied sigh echoed throughout the room before a piece of bread seemingly floated off of a nearby table before being torn violently apart.
Under normal circumstances, one Hawley Griffin would hardly consider his present surroundings to be of any degree of comfort. But on this day - day one of year one of the Epoch of the Invisible Man - circumstances were far from normal. As he eased himself into the chair, which was rather hard on the back but at least relieved the pressure on his cut feet (no thanks to the glass shards he had stepped on while laying siege on Kemp's house earlier), he looked out the window as best he could and watched the scene unfolding outside. From the gasps and reactions of the dim-witted villagers, it seemed as if they had finally managed to do away with the Invisible Man.
Not himself, of course, although that was what the crowd would have thought. About a year or so ago, Griffin had whisked a not-so-particularly bright albino man off of the street outside the university to use as a human test subject for his invisibility experiments. It was just Griffin's luck though, that the same man happened to be residing in the village at the time.
"Well, that's rather interesting," Griffin mused to himself as he stuffed a piece of bread into his mouth and watched the scene outside, "one becomes visible again post mortem. Not the most pleasant way to do so though, I should think." He laughed softly to himself before finishing off the rest of the bread. It would be about an hour or so before it fully assimilated into his system, so he'd have to hide in the meantime until he was fully invisible again.
But this game of hide-and-seek wouldn't last much longer.
Edmonton, North London, 1899
It was a typical warm summer evening at Miss Rosa Coote's Correctional Academy for Wayward Gentlewomen. Or at least as typical as it could be given the odd events at the school during the last year or so: three of the schoolgirls had become mysteriously pregnant - despite being virgins - after being seemingly attacked by some sort of unseen being. Lately, the school had been playing host to scores of parents who were considering enrolling their daughters, thinking their lucky girl would be the next to be blessed with the miracle of an "immaculate conception". In addition and relation to that, Miss Coote had hired decorators to spruce up the building's interior and thus, the school was constantly buzzing with noise and smelling of fresh paint.
But returning to the typical warm summer evening now: as such, the senior girls' dormitory - where, oddly enough, all three of the conceptions had occurred - was abuzz with the sounds of ten or so girls either giggling amongst themselves or praying silently, no doubt hoping to be blessed next. Several girls though, were all huddled around one schoolmate - rather bloated since she was one of the lucky girls - and talking in hushed voices.
"What are you going to name it, Becky?" asked one girl as she played around with her braids.
"Don't know what I'm gonna name it if it's a boy," Becky answered enthusiastically, "but if it's a girl, I'm namin' it Becky, like me."
"I think Mary is a pretty name. And rather appropriate, I should think," said another girl as she shuffled herself primly about on her bed, "Of course, if that's not to your liking, I think -"
But what other name she was about to suggest was not meant to be known; at that same moment, she felt an unseen hand grab the front of her nightdress before pushing her back onto the bed. A number of the other senior girls began to scream in either shock or excitement as the unfortunate - or fortunate, depending on how you percieved it - girl began to moan and writhe in what seemed to be pain.
If the girls had remained quiet for even a second or two, they would've heard a stifled "aheheh" reverberating through the room.
If I couldn't be famous for discovering the key to invisibility, then at least being famous for this is a nice alternative. Considerably more satisfying too, I think. Heh.
((NOTES: I quoted once or twice from H.G. Wells' "The Invisible Man" and the LoEG comics, just to give credit where credit was due))
Hmm...I can't quite seem to decide whether or not day one of my reign or terror was a success or not...
Amid the commotion and chaos that was occurring in the streets outside of the empty inn, no one noticed that a dilapidated wooden chair appeared to be scrapping across the floor out of its own freewill and settling itself neatly by the grimy window at the front of the establishment. That unusual scene was followed by another string of oddities as a disembodied sigh echoed throughout the room before a piece of bread seemingly floated off of a nearby table before being torn violently apart.
Under normal circumstances, one Hawley Griffin would hardly consider his present surroundings to be of any degree of comfort. But on this day - day one of year one of the Epoch of the Invisible Man - circumstances were far from normal. As he eased himself into the chair, which was rather hard on the back but at least relieved the pressure on his cut feet (no thanks to the glass shards he had stepped on while laying siege on Kemp's house earlier), he looked out the window as best he could and watched the scene unfolding outside. From the gasps and reactions of the dim-witted villagers, it seemed as if they had finally managed to do away with the Invisible Man.
Not himself, of course, although that was what the crowd would have thought. About a year or so ago, Griffin had whisked a not-so-particularly bright albino man off of the street outside the university to use as a human test subject for his invisibility experiments. It was just Griffin's luck though, that the same man happened to be residing in the village at the time.
"Well, that's rather interesting," Griffin mused to himself as he stuffed a piece of bread into his mouth and watched the scene outside, "one becomes visible again post mortem. Not the most pleasant way to do so though, I should think." He laughed softly to himself before finishing off the rest of the bread. It would be about an hour or so before it fully assimilated into his system, so he'd have to hide in the meantime until he was fully invisible again.
But this game of hide-and-seek wouldn't last much longer.
Edmonton, North London, 1899
It was a typical warm summer evening at Miss Rosa Coote's Correctional Academy for Wayward Gentlewomen. Or at least as typical as it could be given the odd events at the school during the last year or so: three of the schoolgirls had become mysteriously pregnant - despite being virgins - after being seemingly attacked by some sort of unseen being. Lately, the school had been playing host to scores of parents who were considering enrolling their daughters, thinking their lucky girl would be the next to be blessed with the miracle of an "immaculate conception". In addition and relation to that, Miss Coote had hired decorators to spruce up the building's interior and thus, the school was constantly buzzing with noise and smelling of fresh paint.
But returning to the typical warm summer evening now: as such, the senior girls' dormitory - where, oddly enough, all three of the conceptions had occurred - was abuzz with the sounds of ten or so girls either giggling amongst themselves or praying silently, no doubt hoping to be blessed next. Several girls though, were all huddled around one schoolmate - rather bloated since she was one of the lucky girls - and talking in hushed voices.
"What are you going to name it, Becky?" asked one girl as she played around with her braids.
"Don't know what I'm gonna name it if it's a boy," Becky answered enthusiastically, "but if it's a girl, I'm namin' it Becky, like me."
"I think Mary is a pretty name. And rather appropriate, I should think," said another girl as she shuffled herself primly about on her bed, "Of course, if that's not to your liking, I think -"
But what other name she was about to suggest was not meant to be known; at that same moment, she felt an unseen hand grab the front of her nightdress before pushing her back onto the bed. A number of the other senior girls began to scream in either shock or excitement as the unfortunate - or fortunate, depending on how you percieved it - girl began to moan and writhe in what seemed to be pain.
If the girls had remained quiet for even a second or two, they would've heard a stifled "aheheh" reverberating through the room.
If I couldn't be famous for discovering the key to invisibility, then at least being famous for this is a nice alternative. Considerably more satisfying too, I think. Heh.
((NOTES: I quoted once or twice from H.G. Wells' "The Invisible Man" and the LoEG comics, just to give credit where credit was due))