New World Order: Prologue, Part Two

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

The child babbled something in a language that the man didn't understand and ran off, calling out in a high pitched voice.

The man frowned. If he couldn't understand them, then his message was going to be wasted on these . . . people. Well, he had chosen this time and place for the publicity anyway. Followers would come later.

He surveyed the horizon, looking for the tell-tale rosiness of encroaching dawn. The plan was to approach the fence in the light of a new day. It would be his grand entrance to this world and into history. He hoped that the details of the today were recorded accurately.

Behind him angry voices rose, escalating back and forth. He ignored them even as they became shouts at his back. He started a slow and stately walk toward the chain-link fence that rattled in the wind. His cape whipped around him in what he hoped was a dramatic fashion.

Rough hands grabbed him, trying in vain to pull him back.

He continued walking on even as a man darted directly in front of him, blocking his route.

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Inspired by (sequel to):

The man appeared in a rectangle of shimmering purple light, a Door. Striding forward with confident …

New World Order: Prologue, Part One

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