The magazine hung limply on the railing. It’s pages caught by barbs, torn almost to the point of being unreadable.

As the winds died down, a page freed by the tears, came to rest. The lowlight just bright enough for the words to be read.

... times can be... from the public transport telephone information line 0900-9292, €0.50 per minute).
The train to Castricum takes ab... t 25 minutes and costs €6.80 return. At Castricum station you can hire a bike (phone 0251-654035 to reserve), and in the station restaur... nt buy a map and a €1 entrance card to kilometres of bike paths through beautiful woodlands, meadows, and dunes, with access to the beach. This is also the filtration area ... nking water, so you may also see huge carp swimming in the crystal-clear water of the pools.
The national park has beautif... dings, and free bikes at the gates to cycle through the grounds. In the middle is the modern art museum with a major collection of works by Van Gogh, Seurat...

Raveloe grinned through his lipless maw. The stretching, exposed muscle the only visual clue to his merriment. He stepped past the rain sodden paper and onward into the alley that circled the Prinsengracht. Houseboats littered the canal as he entered the shadows, his coat billowing out behind him, adding to the air of hell-scarred nobility he exuded.

The winter grew more bitter. Freezing winds hurtled down the narrow streets, channelled by the enclosed walkways into jets of ice bearing air. The cold did not bother those among the Dead. But it killed and caused suffering among his flock. Like any shepherd, he had to maintain his flock if he wished to feed freely among them.

He passed a number of the vagrant population. Their faces upturned to him as he drifted among their great numbers. He would nod at each face. His illusory mask giving his visage a more pleasing, more kindly disposition. To them he appeared as nothing more than a gentleman among the destitute. They smiled as he smiled. His waistcoats and fineries glittering in the flickering light of burning fires. Crudely ventilated barrels glowing with hot embers as the people huddled around their warmth.

[i:31f835e8b9]“Boudewyn? Ernst? No news of Lieven?”[/i:31f835e8b9] His voice, silken, came from under cover of darkness. His shadow-cowled face releasing faint mist with each word. He spoke with a concerned eloquence. His unwavering tone failing to fool his “followers”.

A hulking figure emerged from a pile of card and plastic bags.

[i:31f835e8b9]“No Mr. Raveloe. Noone has seen him now. It has been two days.”[/i:31f835e8b9]

*reserved* ((i apologize for the delay Frank, i got off work and realized i had more Christmas presents to buy, so i spent all night at the mall blowing cash. anyway, it's now nearly midnight and i have to work in approximately 5 and a half hours...anything i write would feel rushed and wouldn't live up to the thread...i'll post around 3 or 4 PM EST tomorrow though))