13, An Unlucky Number (FULL LENGTH!!!)

My book 13, An Unlucky Number is quite a long novel about a case worker named Angela. Her life is scarred by the need for revenge of a man named Steelo and his accomplice Skull. Together they try to settle a century old score, striking at Angela in any way they can. Victims piling up, Angela tries to run but whether Steelo and Skull succeed or fail at their path of destruction, 13 will turn out to be Angela's unlucky number.


7. Great Aunt Petunia

Rejoining Jamie in the Police escort car, Angela sat and cried tears of emotion - sorrow, pain, fear. Jamie took one glance at her and decided it best not to ask about it. He gathered Celene wasn't going with them and that's all he needed to know. He leaned against Angela, placed his hand on her shoulder and looked at her in sympathy, for comfort. Noticing his efforts to cheer her up, Angela took his hand in hers and rested her chin on his head. She knew one thing for certain - It was going to be a long night.

Together they arrived at a small, undeniably desolate looking house. Actually it looked more like a wooden shed, but slightly larger. Jamie and Angela turned heads to look at each other, and then looked back at the house. "Where are we?," Jamie asked the driver, who swiveled in his seat, the Police car stopped to a halt, and answered, "We're at your great Aunt Petunia's house. She's the only relative we could find who lived within a 500 mile radius." Jamie, who had a pure look of puzzlement, just looked at the house and then back to Angela. The two of them got out the car and watched as their escort drove away.

Step after step they arrived at the front door. The door, however, looked the least bit welcoming, despite the spiky welcome mat below their feet. A bizarre mask was tied to where usually there would be a doorbell. Not sure what to make of all of this Jamie and Angela knocked three times on the door until a frail, gray-haired old lady opened the door. "Am I to understand that you are my  great nephew?," asked the extremely delicate looking woman. The boy looked at her and considered how even a small breeze could probably knock the old lady off her feet. "Yes. I'm Jamie," he answered. The old lady then looked at Angela as if she hadn't expected her to have another visitor, which was true. "And who is this?" the woman asked. Jamie looked up at Angela who started to look concerned, and decided it would be best if he answered himself. "This is Angela. She's a friend and she's been looking after me since my parents died." This was of course a very twisted truth, for Jamie had been living alone for a couple of years or so. The two had only met a couple of days before. "Well," the old lady finally gathered the words from her delicate mind after a long and awkward silence, "you had better come in then." Jamie and Angela walked inside, greeted by another, odder looking door mat covered in Mexican style patterns.

Angela looked around the wooden house. It was only as big as it had looked on the outside, perhaps smaller, and she thought, just like the woman herself, in one storm the whole house could blow over or collapse. Jamie still held her hand and she was more glad of his presence than she realized. In fact, she didn't know what she'd do if he wasn't with her. The small boy looked up at her and though he looked nervous, managed a small smile. At least we're together, Angela told herself. The old woman invited them both to sit down and, hand shaking slightly, she began to pour a cup of tea for each of them. Half an hour passed quickly and Jamie was getting tired.

Sitting on the end of Jamie's bed, Angela leaned forward and moved a tuft of hair from the boy's eyes. "It's been a long day," she said, giving a small sigh, "Maybe things will look brighter in the morning. For now, though, you need to rest." Angela smiled and kissed Jamie's forehead. "Goodnight." Jamie quickly fell into deep sleep and Angela turned the light off and closed the door behind her. Seen as she was an 'unexpected' guest her bed, for now, would be the sofa. Jamie's Aunt was already asleep and careful not to wake her, Angela tiptoed downstairs. She then curled up on the sofa, but lay awake for another twenty minutes before finally giving into the black sea of sleep.

Like a mist that hung over her head, Angela awoke with her dreams, if you could call them that, still fresh in her mind. Yawning, she got up and entered the bathroom. She had not slept well and as Angela looked into the mirror she could see it was starting to show. Using a flannel she had borrowed, Angela washed her face, hoping to cleanse herself of the thick, dense fog that clouded her mind. All night she had just been flicking around her memories. Mainly the bad ones; her partner's death, the two scary men, the four bodies and poor Celene. It was like her past was haunting her, and Angela didn't like it.

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