Jenkins froze. He stood in the dark bedroom and looked around. With the red and blue moonlight, his frowning expression appeared in the mirror.
The content of the whispers cannot be discerned, but they are getting louder and denser. It was almost as if an invisible person was listening to Jenkins.
To make matters worse, the discomfort of headache and nausea comes on suddenly. In order not to wake his family, Jenkins lay on his bed, biting a pillow, and twitched. The whispers and murmurs lasted for half an hour before disappearing. Jenkins, who was bleeding from his orifices, hurriedly scrubbed his face clean before falling asleep exhausted.
What happened that night only happened once, and Jenkins didn't dare to tell others about it because he was worried about being misunderstood and related to the evil god. There were no permanent physical effects on his body, except that he still had some headaches that morning. It wasn't until the next day that he suddenly realized that the time when the strange murmurs and whispers appeared was the official handover time between the two months.
"Will it matter?"
He can't prove it, so he can only wait for the end of the month to see the situation.
The next week began with rain and rain from Monday, and the sun was finally visible on Thursday.
That day was the third day of August. Jenkins checked the densely packed advertising section of the Penny News according to the method Mr. Hood said at the end of the last meeting, and used the novel as a codebook to decipher the information, and found the time of the next meeting It's a Friday night and the good news is that it's in Sabine.
When he was inquiring about the newspaper, he suddenly realized that Mr. Hood was also probing Jenkins' identity based on the "newspaper sales ranking". After all, he is an "outsider", and it is not easy to know these things.
"But I've figured out why."
It's never difficult to make excuses, it's just a matter of thick skin.
Dad was the only one who knew about Jenkins' plans for independence, and he wasn't surprised when Jenkins found him with a thick manuscript on Thursday.
"This is good."
The old man took the stack of papers and nodded to the embarrassed Jenkins, who was actually a little uneasy because he became a copywriter.
But the money that should be earned still needs to be earned.
"As a believer of the goddess, you can think of making money from books, which is a good performance. Of course, I'm just helping you to see. If you want to develop in this area, you'd better sign up for a course about writing. I heard that colleges and universities have evening classes for workers who are eager to acquire knowledge or for candidates. Your family's financial conditions are not bad; of course, it is also necessary to find a real writer for tutoring... "
He exhorted while flipping through Jenkins' text. He was a very caring old man, usually serious, but very nice to Jenkins.
He said this just to let Jenkins not be too disappointed. After all, according to his father's understanding, Jenkins didn't seem like a person who was good at writing.
"oh?"
He closed his mouth as he spoke, with a look of surprise in his eyes.
"fairy tale?"
Jenkins nodded. In order to get his father to support his plan, he specially put the chapters such as "Snow White" and "Tinder Box" with a relatively complete and wonderful story structure in front. Writing these things is not easy. Not only did he have to dig out the stories, but he also had to conform to the characteristics of this world. He even came up with the idea that "it would be fine if I chose the divine ability [reading]", and was trapped at night. Most of the time in the bedroom is spent in this.
The old man sat quietly in front of the counter, carefully flipping through Jenkins' manuscript. He read some stories in great detail, while others skimmed over them hastily.
"It's not bad, at least the text is fluent, but some adjectives are weird. I really like the story "The Little Match Girl". Did you get the inspiration from the flower girl a few days ago?" He simply said Commented, took off his glasses, and returned the manuscript to Jenkins.
"You want to pay for your independent living on this?"
he asked.
"Yes, sir. Not only that, I heard that the bestower also spends a lot of money. A lot of precious materials are needed for the practice of abilities and the preparation of the ceremony. It's better to make some preparations earlier."
The old man nodded lightly, "Are you going to publish it as a collection of fairy tales, or do you want to publish them in newspapers one by one?"
"Publish directly. After all, there should not be many people who read fairy tales through newspapers... But I will add a few more, preferably with illustrations, so that the book will appear more substantial."
Jenkins made his plans known.
"Okay, you can choose three stories that you think are the best, and I will contact the publisher for you when I submit the report tomorrow."
"Report?"
Jenkins asked in surprise.
"Do you think we can just buy antiques? There are many things here. After a few months, you are familiar with this place, and you will be responsible for writing reports."
Dad patted him on the shoulder, and was satisfied to see Jenkins' blank expression.
This matter was simpler than Jenkins thought, and he didn't even need to bother Bishop Parode, the matter was almost done.
The father told Jenkins to wait patiently for the news. He was not in a hurry, but carefully revised the manuscript, and added a few stories by the way, preparing to make up 20 stories.
Since there are not so many fairy tales that meet the requirements in his memory, he even wrote stories such as "Nanke Yimeng". Although it is more difficult to modify, he still feels very good about himself.
In the blink of an eye, it was Friday, and the red and blue double moons were still illuminating the city of Nolan.
The Williams family usually becomes completely quiet after 9 o'clock. After all, there are not so many entertainment methods in this era, and the night will only increase the consumption of gas lamps and candles.
First he locked the door, and then carefully opened the bedroom window to confirm that there were no patrolmen or idlers wandering on Privet Drive. Jenkins jumped directly onto the big tree in the yard, and then carefully climbed down.
Thanks to the ability of [flexible legs and feet], he allows Jenkins to do things that he only dared to think about before.
From the shadows of the house, Jenkins called out the black robe soaked in his spirit. Judging from the shadow in the corner, the image this time is a thin two-meter-tall man who looks more like a bamboo pole.
"Is the image of each disguise different?"
Jenkins muttered as he walked cautiously to the meeting place. The place chosen this time is an abandoned small building in Sabine District. It is not because of ghosts, but because of the original owner. A widow living alone had an accident and could not find any heirs, so the house was abandoned.
When Jenkins was looking for a house, he saw the news that the city hall was going to auction it, but unfortunately the price was too expensive and it was far away from Papa's antique shop.