Last time on Sacred Geometry: Part 4 | Part 5
“So what’s the plan?” asked Ben as he joined Scarlett in at the window.
“Plan?” Scarlett stared at him.
“You don’t have a plan?”
“Stay the fuck away from any cows. Scare the kids off. That’s about all I got.”
Ben frowned. “Do you think they’re dangerous? I could grab the shotgun.”
Scarlett winced. If there was one thing she liked less than cows, it was guns.
New to the series? Start with Part 1.
“Why wouldn’t you want to be probed?” asked Jim. “How many other people can say they’ve been abducted by extraterrestrials and had their DNA extracted? That would be so amazing!”
Scarlett thought for a moment, and struggled to find a response. Finally, she just shrugged. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”
Scarlett had ventured out of the city to investigate a report of UFO crop circles at a local farm.
>> New to the series? Start with Part 1.
“This is why I don’t do UFO stuff,” Scarlett thought angrily as she gingerly removed her foot from the middle of a cow patty. “Too many fields, too many cows, too much bullshit.”
The past month had been a blur. She’d survived an attack – the details of which she still didn’t remember – that had left her in the hospital for a week.
“What do we have here?” Scarlett wondered as she opened the package she’d found waiting on her front porch when she got home. She often received packages from the fans of her blog, Things That Go Bump in the Night, but she never knew quite what to expect. Sometimes they were interesting, sometimes creepy, occasionally disgusting – but they were never dull.
She cut the packing tape, folded back the top, and brushed away a handful of packing peanuts.
“The one thing that I never thought I’d find in church…” Scarlett paused, frowned, and deleted the text. She’d been trying to figure out how to start the newest post for her blog, Things That Go Bump in the Night, for the better part of an hour. Each time she thought she had the first sentence, she ended up deleting it.
“So sleepy,” her brain muttered to her. “Let’s go to bed.
“For a building built by an eccentric architect who supposedly belonged to a modern Pythagorean mystery cult, this hotel looks disappointingly normal,” thought Scarlett. She yawned, set down her bag, and pressed the elevator button.
The drive down from Cleveland had taken three hours, thanks to a wreck on the highway, and she was already tired from staying up the night before doing research. She’d heard about Hotel Tetra from one of the readers of her blog, Things That Go Bump in the Night.
