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Description
It was Saturday when Frank had finally woken up. Jamia had already been in the kitchen making him breakfast like she usually did. Everything seemed normal; except for an aching emotion in Frank's chest. He had had a terrible nightmare, yet it left a longing sensation for something unknown. Since there was no worry about going to work, he simply sat in bed, trying to recollect pieces of the dream.
"There was, there was this man. With a beautiful voice, it sounded like an angel. And... fangs. Definitely fangs."
Jamia had come into the room with breakfast for her husband, and was now trying to decipher his dreams.
"Maybe it has to do with that guy in Way Manor? Maybe your mind is making him out to be a monster. You know, he may not be a bad guy. I mean, from what you told me last night, it seems he wanted someone to keep him company. Besides his spider, of course," she observed.
Frank ripped a chunk of toast off with his teeth while contemplating his wife's response. He didn't exactly know how to respond, just for the fact that she was probably right. And from this realization, he knew what he needed to do.
"I need to go to Way Manor today."
"Wait, what?" his wife asked, perplexed.
"I need to go to Way Manor today," he repeated.
"I need to know who's in that house. I feel like I know him somehow. I can't leave him all alone."
With his last line, he sprang from the comfort of his bed to the wooden armoire in the corner of the room. He threw clothes out of the way, trying to find the perfect shirt-and-pant combination. He had to make an elegant first impression, after all.
"And what do you plan to do there? Are you just expecting to walk in and have a party with bats and cobwebs?"
Frank seized his motions and looked at his wife.
"I'm going to figure out who owns that house."
"I just don't want you to get hurt," she sighed.
"I won't," he smiled, kissing her forehead.
He had found a black dress shirt and black dress pants to wear. The place was dark, he may as well try to fit in. Slipping them easily over his small frame, Jamia forced a cell phone into his pants pocket.
"Just in case."
Frank embraced her with a kiss one last time before he left the house. He didn't think he needed any help, but he wanted Jamia to know that he was going to be fine. He practically skipped down the street as he saw the dreary courtyard appearing in the distance. There was no traffic, or anyone outside for that matter. Anyone who lived near the mansion didn't go out much. If they did, they sure as hell didn't drive past it. The big house didn't look so scary in the day light. It was still gloomy, but not scary. As he walked up to the gates, he realized that they were closed, just as they were the day before. There was a sudden panic inside of him as he gently pushed on the gates that seemed so fragile to him now. He rushed past the rotting animal carcasses, something he had not seen in the dark, and up to the front steps. The door was closed, its familiar yet foriegn carvings casting shadows upon itself from the mid-morning sun. He had no hesitations this time, only determination as he pressed the handle down and proceeded into the building.
"Hello? Who lives here?" he asked sheepishly.
He saw no sign of Esmerelda the spider, and no sign of anything living. That is, until familiar creaking came from the dusty staircase.
"Hello, stranger."
Frank had just about jumped out of clothing at that point. He wasn't expecting someone to actually answer. There wasn't anyone in sight, but Frank could faintly see a figure draped in the dark. He obviously had the same "blending with shadows" concept that Frank had.
"Are you going to answer me, stranger?" the voice pressed.
"Uh, hi," was all Frank could manage.
The being let out a raspy chuckle as he stepped down by two stairs. In full honestly, Frank was terrified. He hadn't exactly thought through what he was going to say, or who exactly this person was. He had just wanted to confront a dream man. This person could be dangerous. He could have a dagger clutched in his palm, and Frank would never know from how dark it was. But there were small beams penetrating the dark abode that just grazed the eyes of the hidden man. It was as if his eyes were glowing.
"Would you mind closing the door for me?"
Frank had been rudely staring at the man on the stairs that he had not noticed the door that was wide open. Flustered, he gripped the door and pushed with his entire body weight. The door was much easier to open than to close. It slowly creaked shut, though it left Frank winded.
"Thank you, stranger," the man announced, leisurely stepping down the staircase. As he arrived closer, he lit an oil lamp, flooding the room with an orange hue.
"May I ask you who you are and why you are here? Not many come to my manor," he paused, looking at the entirety of Frank, "and those who do are not as formally dressed."
The words "my manor" ricocheted across Frank's mind. So this is Master Way, he thought. Now that there were no outside influences, Frank could see this strange man in the dim light. Needless to say, he looked like he belonged in Jersey. His raven hair was ragged, while his face owned a youthful glow. He had a mixture of purple and red color around his eyes, not too uncommon in victims of insomnia. He wasn't ugly, per se, just drained-looking. In fact, he was beautiful. Could a man even be beautiful? The man's image definitely matched his voice. His attire, however, could not be observed. Unfortunately, it was as black as the surrounding air, not allowing one outline of his figure. Frank thought again of the man's last phrase, causing his face to heat up dramatically.
"Well, uh. I just," Frank stammered, eyes aimless.
"It's good to see some people with the decency to look nice when entering someone else's home," the man beamed.
"Come," he proclaimed, sensing the awkward silence approaching.
"I must show you my study."
Frank willingly followed the man up the stairs, down multiple musty hallways, and eventually into a small candle-lit room. There was an old, expensive looking desk in the center of the room, which captivated the eyes of any who entered. The man pulled a chair to sit opposite the desk and seated himself in the one already present.
"Go on, take a seat."
Bewildered by the size of the mansion and, and the fact that he was actually inside of it, Frank stumbled on his way to the chair. As he sat, the man was watching him intently, as if to observe how he acted. Frank refused to look into his eyes.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to ask some questions."
He was really good at breaking the silence.
“Uh, sure. Go ahead.”
“What is your name?”
“Frank,” he replied blatantly before adding, “Iero.”
“You mean Frances?” the man asked calmly.
“No. No, just Frank.”
“Well, that will have to be fixed,” the man scoffed.
“Around here you’ll be known as Frances.”
“Okay?” Frank droned out, extremely confused.
“Where are you from?”
“Uh, I live just a few blocks away.”
“Who sent you?”
Frank was about to answer; until he truly analyzed what this man had asked him. He had just come here on a hunch. There was no supreme overlord that ordered him to come here, unless there was something he didn’t know about.
“No one sent me,” Frank replied childishly.
The man cocked an eyebrow, suddenly interested by the turn in conversation.
“Oh? No one, you say? Not even those you came with last night?”
“No one sent me,” he repeated with more courage.
“Alright then. You can stay. Esmerelda, come down from there.”
The exotic spider crawled down from Frank’s shoulder, where it had been resting for the duration of their interview. Frank slapped both of his hands over his mouth, slightly permitting a screech to escape his lips. He had never noticed the giant arachnid perched on his shoulder. The man let out a chuckle.
“Ah, you’re afraid of spiders. Do not fear; Esmerelda does not harm those she likes. And considering she was sitting there for quite a while, I’d assume she likes you very much.”
“But. Spider. On. Shoulder. Uhm. But,” Frank stammered.
“What the fuck?” he stated, surprisingly clearly.
Master Way snapped his gazed to the small man sitting across from him. He had a glint of anger, but a very sizable amount of disgust.
“We do not curse in this manor, Frances. It is forbidden,” he enunciated, baring his small teeth.
“It is a vile portion of our language, and why it was created, I’ll never know. It serves no use but to provide a scapegoat for daily frustrations. And there are many substitutions for that.”
“Sorry,” Frank gasped.
He sunk down into the small chair across from the brooding gentleman. Master Way had struck his flat palms against the wooden desk during his little philosophical rant, and was now regaining his regal poise that had been ever so apparent earlier. He released a large breath that seemed like it had been resting in his lungs for several minutes.
“I’m sorry, Master Way.”
That was the first time Frank had called him by the “fan-favorite” name.
“Don’t call me that,” he replied without hesitation, “call me Gerard.”
Frank couldn’t help the smile that cracked onto his face as he sat up straight and beamed at this new name he could give this man. He had always had friends with very common names, and this just threw them all out the door. Gerard. He repeated its elegancy mentally as he closed his eyes and smiled.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Gerard’s sudden outburst pulled Frank back down to earth and made him realize that he had probably looked like he was in the middle of something… sexual.
“Um. Yeah. I mean, that’s a cool name. It has a nice ring to it.”
“It has an elegancy unmatched by any other name. The very syllables dance off the tongue like sparks of a flame. To be an owner of this name, one has to be as elegant as the letters that make it up,” he paused, stood up, and shifted over to Frank to prove his point, “and as sexual.”
Gerard’s tone was one that Frank didn’t recognize. It was one filled with despair; longing for someone to call a friend. It was a slap in the face to Frank to think about how long Gerard had really been in this mansion. It didn’t seem this place had electricity. He didn’t see any lamps; electric ones, anyway. What does this man do on a daily basis? If he is the true Master Way, that would mean he’s been alive since 1777, and that can’t be right. He didn’t look a day over twenty-four.
“How old are you?” Frank’s thoughts spewed out, inches away from Gerard’s face.
“Good answers come in time,” he breathed.
It wasn’t until Gerard had moved away and returned to his seat that Frank realized how close they were. Their lips were almost touching. To be fair, Frank had been bisexual since his sophomore year in high school. But he had never really been in a decent relationship with a man before; he had been with Jamia. He thought he had lost all feelings for the male gender. It seemed as if Gerard knew that and was challenging it. Needless to say: it was working.
“You never did tell me why you came here, stranger.”
Frank couldn’t possibly explain that he saw Gerard in a dream. That would be absurd and he would be labeled as insane. He also didn’t know if it was better to be called “Frances” or “stranger”. Both seemed so vague and foreign.
“Your house looked cool.”
“That’s all?” Gerard resounded, giving off a cheerful laughter.
“That’s all,” Frank smiled.
Gerard’s light persona quickly fell as he remembered a particular fact about Frank that wasn’t personal, but it was definitely a part of him.
“So you can walk outside? During the day?”
The question was abrupt and unexpected, and Frank didn’t quite understand it.
“Uh, yeah. I can walk outside. Just like you, if you wanted to.”
“No, I can’t go outside, Frances,” he droned solemnly.
“I have a medical condition that forbids me to see the sun. It’s quite painful.”
“Oh,” Frank’s joking manner completely diminished.
Gerard looked up at Frank expectantly.
“But could you get something for me? You see, my supply of candles is running low. Would you mind getting me some more? Preferably scented candles. That way I don’t have to smell the dust.”
“Why don’t you just install electricity?”
“Blech. Technology is from the devil. Even if it wasn’t, it would cost a fortune to wire this entire house,” he waved his hand.
“Yeah, that’s true,” Frank considered, then added, “ So how many candles are we talking about here?”
“One hundred.”
Frank quite literally fell off of his chair.
“One hundred?!”
“Yes. Why, do you think I need more?”
“One hundred is a lot of candles, dude. I really don’t think you need that many. Do you even go into all of your rooms? Why do you need that many? I don’t have that much money!” Frank rambled, absolutely baffled at this man in front of him.
“I can pay for it,” Gerard snorted, a crooked smile growing on his face.
“I am a millionaire, after all.”

Description
It was Saturday when Frank had finally woken up. Jamia had already been in the kitchen making him breakfast like she usually did. Everything seemed normal; except for an aching emotion in Frank's chest. He had had a terrible nightmare, yet it left a longing sensation for something unknown. Since there was no worry about going to work, he simply sat in bed, trying to recollect pieces of the dream.
"There was, there was this man. With a beautiful voice, it sounded like an angel. And... fangs. Definitely fangs."
Jamia had come into the room with breakfast for her husband, and was now trying to decipher his dreams.
"Maybe it has to do with that guy in Way Manor? Maybe your mind is making him out to be a monster. You know, he may not be a bad guy. I mean, from what you told me last night, it seems he wanted someone to keep him company. Besides his spider, of course," she observed.
Frank ripped a chunk of toast off with his teeth while contemplating his wife's response. He didn't exactly know how to respond, just for the fact that she was probably right. And from this realization, he knew what he needed to do.
"I need to go to Way Manor today."
"Wait, what?" his wife asked, perplexed.
"I need to go to Way Manor today," he repeated.
"I need to know who's in that house. I feel like I know him somehow. I can't leave him all alone."
With his last line, he sprang from the comfort of his bed to the wooden armoire in the corner of the room. He threw clothes out of the way, trying to find the perfect shirt-and-pant combination. He had to make an elegant first impression, after all.
"And what do you plan to do there? Are you just expecting to walk in and have a party with bats and cobwebs?"
Frank seized his motions and looked at his wife.
"I'm going to figure out who owns that house."
"I just don't want you to get hurt," she sighed.
"I won't," he smiled, kissing her forehead.
He had found a black dress shirt and black dress pants to wear. The place was dark, he may as well try to fit in. Slipping them easily over his small frame, Jamia forced a cell phone into his pants pocket.
"Just in case."
Frank embraced her with a kiss one last time before he left the house. He didn't think he needed any help, but he wanted Jamia to know that he was going to be fine. He practically skipped down the street as he saw the dreary courtyard appearing in the distance. There was no traffic, or anyone outside for that matter. Anyone who lived near the mansion didn't go out much. If they did, they sure as hell didn't drive past it. The big house didn't look so scary in the day light. It was still gloomy, but not scary. As he walked up to the gates, he realized that they were closed, just as they were the day before. There was a sudden panic inside of him as he gently pushed on the gates that seemed so fragile to him now. He rushed past the rotting animal carcasses, something he had not seen in the dark, and up to the front steps. The door was closed, its familiar yet foriegn carvings casting shadows upon itself from the mid-morning sun. He had no hesitations this time, only determination as he pressed the handle down and proceeded into the building.
"Hello? Who lives here?" he asked sheepishly.
He saw no sign of Esmerelda the spider, and no sign of anything living. That is, until familiar creaking came from the dusty staircase.
"Hello, stranger."
Frank had just about jumped out of clothing at that point. He wasn't expecting someone to actually answer. There wasn't anyone in sight, but Frank could faintly see a figure draped in the dark. He obviously had the same "blending with shadows" concept that Frank had.
"Are you going to answer me, stranger?" the voice pressed.
"Uh, hi," was all Frank could manage.
The being let out a raspy chuckle as he stepped down by two stairs. In full honestly, Frank was terrified. He hadn't exactly thought through what he was going to say, or who exactly this person was. He had just wanted to confront a dream man. This person could be dangerous. He could have a dagger clutched in his palm, and Frank would never know from how dark it was. But there were small beams penetrating the dark abode that just grazed the eyes of the hidden man. It was as if his eyes were glowing.
"Would you mind closing the door for me?"
Frank had been rudely staring at the man on the stairs that he had not noticed the door that was wide open. Flustered, he gripped the door and pushed with his entire body weight. The door was much easier to open than to close. It slowly creaked shut, though it left Frank winded.
"Thank you, stranger," the man announced, leisurely stepping down the staircase. As he arrived closer, he lit an oil lamp, flooding the room with an orange hue.
"May I ask you who you are and why you are here? Not many come to my manor," he paused, looking at the entirety of Frank, "and those who do are not as formally dressed."
The words "my manor" ricocheted across Frank's mind. So this is Master Way, he thought. Now that there were no outside influences, Frank could see this strange man in the dim light. Needless to say, he looked like he belonged in Jersey. His raven hair was ragged, while his face owned a youthful glow. He had a mixture of purple and red color around his eyes, not too uncommon in victims of insomnia. He wasn't ugly, per se, just drained-looking. In fact, he was beautiful. Could a man even be beautiful? The man's image definitely matched his voice. His attire, however, could not be observed. Unfortunately, it was as black as the surrounding air, not allowing one outline of his figure. Frank thought again of the man's last phrase, causing his face to heat up dramatically.
"Well, uh. I just," Frank stammered, eyes aimless.
"It's good to see some people with the decency to look nice when entering someone else's home," the man beamed.
"Come," he proclaimed, sensing the awkward silence approaching.
"I must show you my study."
Frank willingly followed the man up the stairs, down multiple musty hallways, and eventually into a small candle-lit room. There was an old, expensive looking desk in the center of the room, which captivated the eyes of any who entered. The man pulled a chair to sit opposite the desk and seated himself in the one already present.
"Go on, take a seat."
Bewildered by the size of the mansion and, and the fact that he was actually inside of it, Frank stumbled on his way to the chair. As he sat, the man was watching him intently, as if to observe how he acted. Frank refused to look into his eyes.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to ask some questions."
He was really good at breaking the silence.
“Uh, sure. Go ahead.”
“What is your name?”
“Frank,” he replied blatantly before adding, “Iero.”
“You mean Frances?” the man asked calmly.
“No. No, just Frank.”
“Well, that will have to be fixed,” the man scoffed.
“Around here you’ll be known as Frances.”
“Okay?” Frank droned out, extremely confused.
“Where are you from?”
“Uh, I live just a few blocks away.”
“Who sent you?”
Frank was about to answer; until he truly analyzed what this man had asked him. He had just come here on a hunch. There was no supreme overlord that ordered him to come here, unless there was something he didn’t know about.
“No one sent me,” Frank replied childishly.
The man cocked an eyebrow, suddenly interested by the turn in conversation.
“Oh? No one, you say? Not even those you came with last night?”
“No one sent me,” he repeated with more courage.
“Alright then. You can stay. Esmerelda, come down from there.”
The exotic spider crawled down from Frank’s shoulder, where it had been resting for the duration of their interview. Frank slapped both of his hands over his mouth, slightly permitting a screech to escape his lips. He had never noticed the giant arachnid perched on his shoulder. The man let out a chuckle.
“Ah, you’re afraid of spiders. Do not fear; Esmerelda does not harm those she likes. And considering she was sitting there for quite a while, I’d assume she likes you very much.”
“But. Spider. On. Shoulder. Uhm. But,” Frank stammered.
“What the fuck?” he stated, surprisingly clearly.
Master Way snapped his gazed to the small man sitting across from him. He had a glint of anger, but a very sizable amount of disgust.
“We do not curse in this manor, Frances. It is forbidden,” he enunciated, baring his small teeth.
“It is a vile portion of our language, and why it was created, I’ll never know. It serves no use but to provide a scapegoat for daily frustrations. And there are many substitutions for that.”
“Sorry,” Frank gasped.
He sunk down into the small chair across from the brooding gentleman. Master Way had struck his flat palms against the wooden desk during his little philosophical rant, and was now regaining his regal poise that had been ever so apparent earlier. He released a large breath that seemed like it had been resting in his lungs for several minutes.
“I’m sorry, Master Way.”
That was the first time Frank had called him by the “fan-favorite” name.
“Don’t call me that,” he replied without hesitation, “call me Gerard.”
Frank couldn’t help the smile that cracked onto his face as he sat up straight and beamed at this new name he could give this man. He had always had friends with very common names, and this just threw them all out the door. Gerard. He repeated its elegancy mentally as he closed his eyes and smiled.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Gerard’s sudden outburst pulled Frank back down to earth and made him realize that he had probably looked like he was in the middle of something… sexual.
“Um. Yeah. I mean, that’s a cool name. It has a nice ring to it.”
“It has an elegancy unmatched by any other name. The very syllables dance off the tongue like sparks of a flame. To be an owner of this name, one has to be as elegant as the letters that make it up,” he paused, stood up, and shifted over to Frank to prove his point, “and as sexual.”
Gerard’s tone was one that Frank didn’t recognize. It was one filled with despair; longing for someone to call a friend. It was a slap in the face to Frank to think about how long Gerard had really been in this mansion. It didn’t seem this place had electricity. He didn’t see any lamps; electric ones, anyway. What does this man do on a daily basis? If he is the true Master Way, that would mean he’s been alive since 1777, and that can’t be right. He didn’t look a day over twenty-four.
“How old are you?” Frank’s thoughts spewed out, inches away from Gerard’s face.
“Good answers come in time,” he breathed.
It wasn’t until Gerard had moved away and returned to his seat that Frank realized how close they were. Their lips were almost touching. To be fair, Frank had been bisexual since his sophomore year in high school. But he had never really been in a decent relationship with a man before; he had been with Jamia. He thought he had lost all feelings for the male gender. It seemed as if Gerard knew that and was challenging it. Needless to say: it was working.
“You never did tell me why you came here, stranger.”
Frank couldn’t possibly explain that he saw Gerard in a dream. That would be absurd and he would be labeled as insane. He also didn’t know if it was better to be called “Frances” or “stranger”. Both seemed so vague and foreign.
“Your house looked cool.”
“That’s all?” Gerard resounded, giving off a cheerful laughter.
“That’s all,” Frank smiled.
Gerard’s light persona quickly fell as he remembered a particular fact about Frank that wasn’t personal, but it was definitely a part of him.
“So you can walk outside? During the day?”
The question was abrupt and unexpected, and Frank didn’t quite understand it.
“Uh, yeah. I can walk outside. Just like you, if you wanted to.”
“No, I can’t go outside, Frances,” he droned solemnly.
“I have a medical condition that forbids me to see the sun. It’s quite painful.”
“Oh,” Frank’s joking manner completely diminished.
Gerard looked up at Frank expectantly.
“But could you get something for me? You see, my supply of candles is running low. Would you mind getting me some more? Preferably scented candles. That way I don’t have to smell the dust.”
“Why don’t you just install electricity?”
“Blech. Technology is from the devil. Even if it wasn’t, it would cost a fortune to wire this entire house,” he waved his hand.
“Yeah, that’s true,” Frank considered, then added, “ So how many candles are we talking about here?”
“One hundred.”
Frank quite literally fell off of his chair.
“One hundred?!”
“Yes. Why, do you think I need more?”
“One hundred is a lot of candles, dude. I really don’t think you need that many. Do you even go into all of your rooms? Why do you need that many? I don’t have that much money!” Frank rambled, absolutely baffled at this man in front of him.
“I can pay for it,” Gerard snorted, a crooked smile growing on his face.
“I am a millionaire, after all.”