• And now Artemis diverted his attention. Slowly his head turned, mechanically, in a dead enough way to disturb not even the gaudy tassel which hung from his fez, and fixed his greyed eyes upon the old man’s. He let them hang there, in an almost bemused silence, as he observed the old man in his chair. Small. Fearful. A mortal in his final throes and nothing more.
    “Why, my dear friend,” Artemis began, “I only wonder at how it hasn’t occurred to you yet.” An empty grin set upon his face.

    The old man started, as if waking from a dream. A feverish, cold dream. He glanced at Artemis. Again at the door. And once more at the man himself.

    “You… You think this is funny?” the old man’s fury began to rise at that grin. “You bring us here, and you think it’s all a joke, some excuse to play with our heads, and… and…” He stopped.

    And began again. “No… No, I see… My fate.” He scoffed. “MY FATE! Was this your plan? From the start!?” He rose from the wooden chair, his disgust rising ever higher. “Some… Some sick penance for my sins!? YOU…” His fortitude could last no longer. Now he began to rave. “YOU ARE A MADMAN! A… A COMPLETE MONSTER! YOU’RE SICK! SICK AND OUT OF YOUR HEAD AND THE MOST UNDYINGLY MISERABLE EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING THAT COULD EVER WALK THE PATH OF LIFE, AND WELL I HOPE HELL HAS A FIERY PLACE FOR YOU IF YOU COULD EVEN THINK THAT-“
    “YES, SCREAM, MR. KOLVOLD!” Artemis shot up from his cushioned throne. “Scream to us all! Let your rage be heard by all the sympathetic ears around,” As his hand waved passed the unmoving bodies in their chairs, “let you fear be known to us all!!” The old man became silent as stone. “To the emptiness beyond these walls! Let it echo! Perhaps if you scream loud enough, Mr. Kolvold, perhaps God will hear you, take pity on you, perhaps he will scoop you up in his great hands and bring you away from here! If you scream loud enough, perhaps you will wake yourself from this dream, warm and safe in your own bed! Yes, if animals must scream, let them scream!!”

    Artemis silenced himself at last, as Mr. Kolvold stood, dumbed, for an infinity of seconds. The quiet emptiness in those seconds impressed itself stronger than anything either of the party had felt before.

    “… For now…” Artemis was again his cool and dead self. He reseated himself slowly. “… For now, there is nothing more to expect. And when the clock reaches twelve exact,” He perceived the old man glanced up at the great, ornate clock suspended above his unlit fireplace, “our door… Our beautiful ivory gateway into Heaven… It will reveal to us all what our screams amount to.”
    The old man beheld the ivory door once more. It stood shut, stoic, as an unfeeling sentinel. And he was awed back into his seat.

    “As for me…” Artemis hung his head to his lap. “As for me, I shall scream no longer. I shall spend these… last, few moments… in silent reflection.”

    And silence reigned once more.

    The only defense Mr. Kolvold could find against the unbearable submission to the fears that threatened to devour his every fiber was to stare at the clock. To watch time slowly assimilate.

    To stare and to wait.