Timothy Sexton's Novels

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Antichrist, Superstar: The Musical. Chapter One of My Novel - Associated Content

Chapter One: "Titles"

Duke Forberry idly pulled a jelly bean from out of a bowl emblazoned with the legend "Into every life a little Dane must fall," under which was a line drawing of a man wearing Elizabethan garb and falling through the air, presumably none other than that Melancholy Dane himself: Hamlet, Prince of Denmark.

Anton O'Masia studied this from the other side of Duke's phenomenal desk. It was a desk which might have brought upwards of several thousand dollars at an antique auction for there were copious amounts of paint drippings polka dotting the top, and deeply etched shavings on the side caused by bumps and bruises collected on the rather frequent trips to and from Duke's transitory locations of business. A deal had been struck literally minutes after Anton had gleaned the information that not only had Duke spun the pottery wheel from which the bowl had been borne, but he'd also been the artiste who'd stenciled the artwork as well as the man of letters who'd concocted the pun. Rarely had Anton met a man who was so ambidextrous when it came to dealing with the usually akimbo artistic and commercial arms of showbiz.

AntiChrist, Superstar: The Musical. Chapter Two of My Novel - Associated Content

Bethany Louise Schaffner was comfortably curled up in her bed, halfway to her usual and quite expected recurring nightmare, when she was awakened by the rustling sound made in the tree outside her sister Mary's room. This scuffling of rubber shoes on magnolia bark was supplanted by the barely discernable squeak of her sister's window being meticulously raised. Beth looked over at the luminous red stare of the digital clock on her nightstand. In another twelve minutes it would be two in the morning. Wasn't that the time referred to in legend as the Witching Hour? She couldn't remember.

Whatever, her sister was home early tonight.

She pressed her ear close to the wall and clearly heard Mary removing her Nikes. Then the cool sweep of her socked feet walking across the carpet. She waited for the dual springy sounds of her sister falling into bed, but it never came. What on earth was she doing in there? And in an instant, almost as if by ESP, Beth realized that Mary was no longer in her room. She clutched the covers to her chin at the exact moment that Mary stole into her room.