About the Series

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Rafat paused in his cleaning, stepped outside, and pulled out his golden fountain pen, a birthday present from his mother. That was the advantage to night cleaning. He could always stop to capture a couple of lines. He couldn't be certain, but it felt like his songs were getting stronger.

     Night sky, tight sky

     everything all right sky,

     soon no moon,

      babe, let's croon.

Maybe spoon? Both old-fashioned words which his mom would appreciate, haha.

     He was about to start another verse, but before he could write "Light sky," he saw a flash of something in his peripheral vision, something shining in the dusty moonlight.

     "No!" he thought, turning to face the assailant, Rafat's pen extended like a weapon.

     The knife cut into him before he could lunge. It struck again and again. The young man was dead before he hit the ground, notebook clenched in his hand. His cherished fountain pen rolled quietly away from his body, as steps retreated.

    As the masked man lunged forward, knocking over a floor lamp, Professor Leta Lang

thrust the letter opener into his arm. Though the weapon did not go deep, his gray shirt sleeve

immediately turned red-black.

    “Damn you!” he yelled.

    Leta Lang pulled out the weapon and glowered. Her neat brunette bun had come

undone from the effort and strands of hair fell around her oval face. Her dark eyes gazed

steadily at him. She was shaking in rage, but suddenly she knew him. With his name on her lips,

she aimed for his neck at the very moment his undamaged arm swung toward her. He slapped

her face.

    As Leta Lang fell to the floor, the back of her head hit the desk top with a loud crack. She

lay still, not making a sound.

    The two intruders looked at each other again, this time in fear.