‘The fear eater’ was a long, and incredible journey. It was a journey into Mark’s mind, a clever and dangerous criminal; a journey with James and Roger - two relentless detectives - and Rita -a phenomenal and efficient exhibit officer; a journey into deep and unbreakable friendships – between Don and Ivonne, and between Don and Gimmy.
Although the story has recently finished, there are some situations which I didn’t write about. ‘The fear eater’ was originally born as a short story (the transformation into a novella came afterwards). I had to cut and put on the side some parts for focusing on the main plot I had chosen. Doing so, I avoided making the story too much massive and slow. For example, a fact that I overlooked was the finding of the plastic bottle containing those strange tablets at Ivonne’s house. What happened when James found it and took to the laboratory? The blue lights lit the entire length of the white marble corridor. James and Roger walked along it, then turned at the corner, and followed another lobby. At the end, there was a white door with a security panel on its right. James typed the code, and the screen flickered; the red light turned green. The door clacked, and James pushed it open. “Are you sure the laboratory is in this way?” Roger asked. “The last time I’ve been here, I went through…” “You went through the main corridor to the reception, then, I presume, you asked for doctor Elijah.” James grinned. “I know the procedure, but, this time, we need somebody who can give us direct and immediate answers.” The huge room they entered smelled of disinfectant, and chemicals. “What’s this smell?” Roger exclaimed. Three metallic counters were horizontally arranged in the middle of the room; microscopes, Bunsen burners, and other scientific equipment were on top of them. A huge whiteboard hung on the wall at the end of the room, and incomprehensible formulas and number were written on it. “It’s the smell of a place where analysis is carried out, detective.” The voice came from a man hunched on the last counter. He sighed and didn’t lift his head from the microscope. “We have something which may interest you, Philip.” James said. “Oh, Detective Murphy.” The man looked up. “I haven’t seen you for ages. How are you doing?” Philip stretched his back, and slowly walked towards the two detectives. He was bald and very thin. His back had a huge hump which made him bent forward; his long arms swung along his body making him look like a monkey. He wore two, small and round golden spectacles which he kept on the tip of his nose. Roger intensely stared at him baffled: the man was barefoot. “I presume you have something for me.” Philip smiled; his teeth were an unhealthy yellow colour. “I have, but you have to promise me.” “Uh-uh.” Philip clapped his hands and switched from one foot to the other. “You’ve got something interesting! You’ve got something interesting! What’s that?” Philip jumped by the happiness like a kid whom is given a present to; when he calmed down, James took out of his pocket the exhibit bag with an orange bottle inside. “Promise!” He said, and waved it before the mesmerised eyes of Philip. “Is it some illegal substance?” Philip’s stare was fixed on the container. “Philip, you have to promise.” The man sighed, then brought his hand to his heart, straightened up as much as he could, and started reciting a well-known oath. “I do solemnly promise that I won’t cheat you, I won’t lie to you, and I will tell you whatever I can discover about the subject of my analysis. By doing this, I promise that I will do my best for helping the investigation in course.” He smiled. “And you will record, and archive everything as the law states, won’t you?” “That’s not part of the pledge, James! I just have to…” “You will record, and archive everything as the law states, won’t you?” James said decisively. “Yeah.” Philip replied, and heaved a deep sigh. “Yeah, I will.” “Good man! Good man! We found this bottle during a search. What do you think it contains?” James handed the container to Philip. His hands cravingly grabbed it; Philip started observing and examining it. Firstly, he looked at the hand-written label on the side, then turned and turned again for seeing if it had something strange. “A usual bottle for medicine.” He mumbled. “You can find numerous on general sales websites. The person who had it used a half, which means she felt it was enough. Probably, the woman is dead.” “How do you know it was a woman?” Roger burst out. “How can you say she’s dead?” “The fingerprints on its sides!” Philip replied abruptly. “They’re graciously small. About the deduction she is dead, well, if she were alive, you wouldn’t be here.” James grinned; Roger breathed deeply on the verge of a wrathful reaction. “Who told you that if she…” “James, could you kindly let your colleague know that he can speak only when it’s asked, please?” Philip interrupted without lifting his head from the exhibit. Roger reddened by fury, and was about to protest, when James, smiling, put a hand on his shoulder, and shook his head. Roger snorted, and kept observing at the analyst. “I presume it’s a kind of drug, and the colour of the tablets confirm it might be…” Philip unscrewed the lid and took out a tablet without using gloves or tools. He sniffed one, then broke in a half. “Good staff, too.” Philip beamed. “This is good staff. From the texture and colour, I would say it’s a hallucinogen. I’m completely sure. Where did you find it?” “In a house.” James answered. “We were searching the house of a victim.” “A victim? As I said, the owner is dead!” Philip sarcastically grinned at Roger. “This is seriously good stuff!” In front of a smiling James and a fuming Roger, Philip unexpectedly threw the tablet in his mouth. Roger’s mouth gaped. Philip chewed the substance, and a grin grew on his face. “Wow! This product is strong!” He swallowed the other half. “Oh, yes! This is serious stuff!” Roger was shocked; he turned to James, but he was just observing Philip. “What can you tell us about it?” He asked. “I can tell that this stuff is very popular, especially at raves. It makes you feel indestructible, but it has strong hallucinogenic effects. Wow!” Philip’s eyes glittered happily. “It’s PCP, for sure, but cut with a delicious paint remover, and a little bit of cyanide. Yummy!” “Could you figure out where it comes from?” “Well, when I was operating on the market - and I proudly was one of the best - the laboratories which made this product used to be in peripheral areas where nobody could find them. You know, the making is quite smelling; you have no idea of the stench of chemicals filling your nostrils!” He chuckled. “When he was on the market?” Roger whispered to James, frowning. “I’ll explain you later.” Philip swaggered to the closest counter to him, and unorthodoxly took out another tablet with his hands, then plunged it into a conical beaker and shook it. “What a shame to waste such a good product!” He mumbled, then chuckled, mumbled again. The transparent liquid changed colour, and turned into an intense blue. “Don’t you listen the voice of ladies singing and giggling?” Philip said. “This stuff is good, very good!” “Philip, what did you find out?” James asked. “I found out what I thought. The laboratory probably is in East London; it turned blue which means it contains a sleeping chemical typically used by the cookers in that area. The time goes by, but they don’t lose the old habits.” Philip chuckled. “I would say an isolated area between zone five and six. It was well-known when I worked in that sector. You haven’t shut this laboratory down yet, have you, detectives? Oh, detectives, do you see the birds?” Philip giggled, and stretched his arms as though he wanted to grab something in the air. “Only one question more, Philip.” The giggling stopped, and Philip looked at him blankly. “How many tablets does a person have to take to go totally mad?” “Overdose, you mean?” Philip neared them swinging from a leg to the other. “The birds are flying! The birds are flying!” “Philip, answer the question!” James said gently. “Well, I would say that if the person who took it is not used to, I presume that two or three entire tablets might be enough for driving insane.” He giggled, and started humming. “Thanks, Philip! You’ve been helpful as usual.” James and Roger walked to the door; when they went through, James turned. “Philip, the bottle.” “What bottle?” Philip leant on the counter with a stupid smile on his face. “Don’t take the piss on me, mate! The bottle I gave to you! Give it back!” “James, I have no bottle, and I don’t know…” “You don’t want me to talk to your mum, do you?” As soon as James mentioned his mum, Philip took magically out the bottle, and threw it to the detective. “Thanks!” The door slid closed, and the only noise coming from inside was Philip’s complaining whine. “James, you didn’t seriously mean to talk to his mum, did you?” A bewildered Roger started. “I actually meant exactly what you heard, Roger.” James laughed. “But, was he in this business? I mean, he seriously had a laboratory?” “Philip was arrested a couple of years ago, but keeping him in prison was a trouble. He could create any substance from everything! I’ve never ever met such a born drug-maker!” “But was he pardoned? Or, maybe, for sure they decided to…” “No, Roger.” James chuckled. “They just decided to keep him in a laboratory tailored for him, and use his ability! He happily agreed.” “I think it’s totally…” Roger began, then shook his head, and followed James out of the building. This is the first short story dedicated to ‘The fear eater’ novella. If you liked it, and you want to read the novella, you can find it on Wattpad for free. CLICK HERE. Take care and see you the next week with a short story regarding our Rita. Cheers!
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