The old woman was inside her bedroom, yet again. She sat stiffly upon the wooden rocking chair, unmoving. He frowned."Damn! Oh, please, not another night spent in the chair! I just do not believe that my arse can take another hour in this tree. Aw, fuck!" He shivered slightly as another gust of wind whipped about him. "There is something in the air; something that puts me of a mind to believe that the devil holds a candle to the wind this night. Aye, surely it is that. An ill-wind blows, Jacob. An ill-wind blows through to steal unrepentant souls. Bloody hell! Was the money worth the price of your soul?"The man ceased talking quietly to himself, his words giving way to softly muttered curses, but he continued to watch the wrinkled lump of flesh perched stiffly upon the still chair. After a time, he fell back into an uneasy silence, his nerves screaming, sending shocks stinging through his body with every creaking branch or rustling leaf. The night deepened, but seemed to drag on. There were so many things for a seventeen-year-old boy to keep track of. There was time spent with his parents, who loved and cherished him. There was time spent at school, where he pretended to work hard to maintain his 5.0 GPA so as to not scare the other students or teacher. Then of course there was the time spent trying to avoid Mike Voles who had made it his mission in life to cause Bryan as much pain as possible, whether it was the physical pain of being punched in the stomach or the emotional pain of having his pants pulled down in the cafeteria.What was left of each day was spent fine-tuning his time machine.With the money he had gained from subtly manipulating the financial markets, Bryan had rented out a storage lock-up and spent most evenings in there working on his machine. His parents thought he was playing board games with his friends. What had started as just a computer tucked in the corner running simulations had grown into a leviathan of a machine, cogs and gears.
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