His death was only the beginning of a great adventure. The world opened up in a way he could never understand. The Death of Conan!

When you look up into the sky, you wonder.

You wonder if there could be others like yourself out there.

You wonder what they would think, do and believe.

What you don't wonder is if they weren't like you at all, but something entirely new!

Available now on Amazon for 99 cents. The Death of Conan.

The Baker Street Universe explores the possibility of the existence of an entirely new universe that is in parallel to our own.

It is populated by heroes and villains we have created.

What if the best and worst of us were real?

What if they breathed life and were determined to find us?

What would happen then?

What would happen then?

Read the story that crosses over from our world into that new existence.

Follow a living and breathing author, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, as he makes the leap from our humanity to a new one.

What he finds there in the new universe will:

Astound you!

Frighten you!

Make you think like never before!

What if they were real? What if you weren't to them?

Available now on Amazon for 99 cents. The Death of Conan.

(New) The Crime of Loving is never paid off"A James Moriarity Story." By John Pirillo artwork & stories at ImagineNation

 
The Crime of Loving is never paid off
"A James Moriarity Story."
By John Pirillo

"The crime of loving is never paid off. It will last until your undying days." Sir William Shakespeare.

Those words echoed in the chamber of his mind over and over as he remembered her. The Elf Princess who had nurtured him and salvaged his damaged body and soul. Every since he had spotted her that one time on Baker Street, he'd never been the same. So as he stood in that same window, like most of us do when striving to bring back our dear lost ones, hoping beyond hope that they are not dead, but still live...as he stood there, those were his hopes and desires. To bring her back into his life. To reclaim his investment of emotions and happiness once more.

But such was not to be.

"Pound for your thoughts, James."

James turned to eye Watson, who was giving him a close look, almost as if he could read his mind. "Rather expensive gesture."

"Not at today's rates. A pound is swiftly becoming as useless as a penny has long been."

James smiled. Watson might be gruff and emotional at times, but one thing was certain. His friendship. He could see why Sherlock...the new one...clung to the friendship so closely. A friend was the only true treasure in a man or woman's life. All the glitter and gold of life were nothing but vain gestures to claim happiness, never brought it.

Watson came to the window and looked out. "March is always cold and dreary."

"I've seen worse." James said without thought.

Watson gave him a distressed look. "I didn't mean to dredge up those old memories again."

James put a hand on his friend and partner's shoulder. "One thing you may never be, Watson, even if you are so many other things and that is unkind."

Watson relaxed beneath the grip and turned to look out again.

"We're a funny pair of buggers now, aren't we?"

"Yes. I looking for a lost love and you a friend, who is not lost, but because he has chosen to remove himself far away, could very well be."

Watson sighed. "We know each other too well."

"Never." James replied whole heartedly. "Friends can never know each other too much. Speaking of knowing...our friend Chenay has invited us to a dinner social at Byron's."

"The poet?"

"That one."

"Conan would love to go to that, I suspect."

"Already on his way to meet us. We should be hearing his taxi humming up right about..."

A Tesla Cab turned nearby and came humming to a stop out front. Conan stepped onto the floorboard of it, then down to the sidewalk. He looked up and waved.

James and Watson smiled at him.

"Amazing, when you think of how much all of us have been through, that we can still adapt so easily to so much variance in our lives."

"Variance is what we were born to serve." James uttered, remembering words that Captain Nemo had spoken to him on the cruise they had been on at one time, a long time ago.

"Nemo?"

"But of course."

"Heard from him?"

"Usually the only time we hear from him or he from us is when there is a major world destructive event about to happen or already doing so."

Watson chuckled. "Indeed so."

Mrs. Hudson was heard downstairs opening the front door and greeting Conan, who gave her a loud greeting in return, and then the both of them came up the stairs, talking softly to one another. Conan entered first, and then rushed over to shake hands with both men.

Mrs. Hudson lingered at the stairs, giving Watson a look. A smart man. He left the others and descended the stairs with her, soon lost to their view, had they been looking.

"James."

"Conan." He greeted his friend.

Conan motioned to a chair and James sat, with Conan sitting opposite him. "I have bad news."

James felt his throat tighten in despair. Only one thing could strike him so hard. He became breathless with anticipation as Conan measured him with his eyes, and then finally spoke again.

"The Elf Princess you have sought is in grave danger."

James almost wept with relief. Now he knew she was alive, but the news was horrible. "I shall leave at once to rescue her."

He started to get up, but Conan was faster and put a hand on his shoulder, restraining him. He started to push against it.

"Let me finish!" Conan said fiercely, his eyes sparkling with purpose.

James relented, but still kept the option open for fleeing to help once he knew the full circumstances.

Conan waited a moment, and then seeing James had capitulated, he sat down again. "Sherlock and Professor Challenger are there even now to succor her."

"Where is this...there?" He asked, the menace barely hidden in his voice.

Conan looked at his friend's eyes and shuddered. He prayed that she lived, for if not, a war of proportions never before seen just might erupt.

"The Queen's Black Tower."

"The what!"

James shot up, his face red with indignation. "How dare her! After all we've done for her and this blasted kingdom."

Conan remained immovable, waiting for the inevitable next question, which came. "Why?"

"For her safety."

James felt some of his anger ebb and flow away, but his face still remained flushed with hope and a violent kind of anger that refused to vanish entirely. "Who?"

Conan was used to his friend's form of questioning and replied at once. "The Hollow Man."

James was confused for a moment. "But why would he seek to harm her? She wasn't even known to this kingdom until she rescued me. He fretted with his coat's lapel, using the distraction to try and gather his thoughts, seek an avenue of understanding that made sense. But even with that, he could feel his heart breaking. He wanted to rush to her rescue her, hold her in his arms, and keep her safe!

"James, it's complicated."

James sighed. "Isn't it always?"

"Yes. But this time more so. You see the Hollow Man has made a pact with someone we have sought to keep away from our kingdom over and over, and yet he returns more powerful and eager to destroy than before."

James knew instantly. "Hyde!"

"Yes. That beast."

"But how has he escaped this time?"

"No one is certain. Wells and Jules, even as we speak, are enroute to the vessel that was his jail cell near the moon, but we won't necessarily hear more than what we've already figured out."

"Which is?"

"That she knows something about their plans."

"Then she should speak of them at once." James said. "That's the logical thing to do."

"There's more."

"What more could there be?"

"Her father has gone missing as well."

Then James knew what was going on. He stiffened his resolve and rose again. "We must go to her side at once."

Conan nodded and rose. "I knew that would be the case, but I wanted you to know everything before you took on this case."

"Case?"

"Yes." Conan said.

"You see, not only is the father missing, but so is the Queen's brother."

"That complicates things."

"Tremendously."

=======================================================

She sat in the dark cell, several lit candles illuminating the book she read. "Good Night and Dreams," by William Shakespeare. It was a play similar to Romeo and Juliet, but had a happier ending. Queen Mary had a personally signed copy of it, which had been loaned to her. She was grateful for its comfort now, as she missed the daylight tremendously, but knew she had to remain as hidden as possible, even if it meant being in the deepest dungeons of the Black Tower.

"How art thy eyes like that of the morning sun

Lighting my brow with warmth and love

Thy words are like song birds that come

With calls of greeting from high above."

She read aloud, then stopped and began to sob. Tears wet her eyes and she rubbed at them. She thought she heard something move outside her cell, but then it became still again. She sighed and raised the play again to read further, but before she could a man's voice came into the cell.

"And how much more so, the touch of your hand

The light of your comely eyes,

The caress of your words without need or plan

That lifts me up with great surprise."

"JAMES!" She uttered frantically and jumped to her feet. She raced towards the opening cell door and leapt into the arms of the huge man whose face had become her sun and moon, whose words her song, and whose thoughts her calm.

"James!" She wept.

Conan stood framed in the doorway, his form seeming more like a wisp of smoke, than a real person as he stepped back into the shadows, turned and walked away.

James gently pressed her from him and looked into her wet eyes.

"Never more!"

"Quoth the Raven." She answered.

James leaned over and kissed her on her lips and for those brief moments of electricity, their souls blended and heaven and hell both vanished in a sea of peace known only to those whose love enfolds the universe in its grasp.

(New) An awesome new set of Fractal Flames by John Pirillo artwork, videos and stories at ImagineNation

The Invisible Man starring Claude Rains Classic Horror Film from Universal on ImagineNation

The Invisible Man TV Pilot

Interview with an Invisible Man Part Two By John Pirillo as well as short stories, animations and movies at ImagineNation

Interview with an Invisible Man
Part Two
By John Pirillo

"There is no such thing as a beginning or an end, there is only Now!" --- Jules Verne

In the days that followed the first part of this interview I spent a lot of time on my balcony, tasting snowflakes on my tongue, enjoying the tart crispness of them. In small town I was born in there is no pollution, smog, or toxins in the water. It's all still pure. For now. The people there hate big business, especially after the coal mine industry abandoned them, when the mines ran dry, leaving dozens there with Black Lung and dying a suffocating death.

The Interview begins after this:

I twisted my fingers over the balcony railing and watched the railroad where a train came roaring by, its wheels sending up a thunderous roar through the small valley of the town. It sped through as if the town were an annoyance on its route to Pittsburgh, its nearest stop. I then looked at the thick snow bordering the tall trees that gathered in thick hurdles all about the town, sheltering it during the summer from heat, and gathering mounds of snow during the winter for runoff in the spring.

On the fourth day I stood there, getting antsy and running low on funds. I did have to work, after all, and knew the kids at my school must be wondering why I was taking so long to come back from my vacation. College is rough, but it has its perks. You can take sabbaticals, especially if you're a writer in need of inspiration. You have to turn in something tangible frequently if you want to stay employed. I usually did.

Then the air shivered in the parking lot below as our local Sheriff's car pulled in and continued to shimmer, leaving a path of footprints as it moved towards my hotel. The Sheriff slammed to a stop as the footprints crossed his path. He got out and pondered the footprints, rubbing the top of his balding head as if not wanting to believe his eyes, but having to.

The footprints vanished at the hotel's front door, and it opened.

He looked ready to run to the door, then changed his mind, shaking his head, got back into his car, ran up the rpm of the engine and skidded out of there, probably wanting to hear something familiar he could reckon with, rather than think further about something invisible that leaves foot prints.

A light knock on my door.

I went to it and Professor Langdon stood there, his top hat in his hands, smiling. "I see your local Constable was quite perturbed by my foot prints."

"He would have been even more so, had you materialized in front of him."

He laughed lightly, and then entered as I stepped aside.

I got him seated comfortably at the table again, set out two cups, then hurriedly warmed up some water and made tea.

He took a cup, sniffed it and smiled at me. "You remembered."

"I try." I said happily.

We both sipped our tea a long time, neither saying a thing, basking in the camaraderie we both felt at that moment. I didn't know him that well, except as I wrote him, but he had turned out to be a very wholesome, strong man I could like as a friend. I had left the balcony window open and a small bird alighted on the balcony railing and then flit its tail back and forth, peering into my room. I smiled. I love birds.

I plucked my cell phone and set it on the table.

"I'd like to start now, if that's okay with you?"

"Please do."

I activated the recorder and began. "We all know that Wells version of the Invisible Man doesn't end well, or even start well. His protagonist is a man torn by his greed for science and for glory at the same time."

"Needs for negative attention is a pattern of wounded souls, dear Mister Pirillo." He commented.

I nodded. "I agree. Needs for negative attention. I deal with that a lot in my classroom. The kids have wounded personalities that demand attention to fill in the holes made in their heart."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"As I."

I looked at my notes. "What drove you to seek the formula for making oneself invisible?"

"Science. The desire to broaden it. My brothers in science were too narrow. As I'm sure you've experienced in this world, it's too easy to settle into a comfortable niche in life, rather than challenge its comfort and expand one's knowledge."

"I see. And did you get any help?"

He looked uncomfortable for a moment, and then spoke. "Several, but they soon sought shelter in more comfortable research."

"Why?"

"My first experiments didn't turn out so well."

"How is that?"

He looked off into the distance, his eyes lost in memories. "I started with mice. I love the little things, and thought my chemicals would be safe if use don them."

He looked me in the eyes. "They self immolated."

"Burst into flames?"

"Yes." He said unhappily.

I felt a sweat gathering on my brow. "Had you used that on a human...?"

"They would have died horribly."

"And that is why the others left you?"

"No. They left when I decided to no longer risk any life to secure success."

My eyes narrowed in thought. "Yourself."

"Yes."

"So they were afraid of having to account for your death?"

"Yes. And rightly so. I had no idea if no next formulation would kill me, wound me, and immobilize me or what?"

"I'm a little unclear as to how you made clear markers of progress then."

He leaned forward, cupping his hands together. "I tested just small portions after that. Not on my entire body, but on my own hand."

He held out his right hand and turned it over. I gasped. There were deep burn marks there. "It didn't work at first."

"No, but it didn't kill me either." He grimaced, though I was in great pain for months after the first experiments.

He turned over the other hand and I saw more burn marks.

"You poor man." I gasped in sympathy.

He shrugged. "Better me than some wretched creature with no sense of what is going to happen to it. I value life. All life. And I have sworn to protect it. However I am able to."

"Thus your reluctance to harm another mouse."

"Yes."

"Okay. So obviously you didn't burn your body up. Somewhere along the line of testing, it must have worked?"

"Years later."

"But..."

"My body is a landscape of pain and experimentation."

I paled at the thought of the pain this man had sent himself through and what his body must look like without clothing on it. He smiled weakly, rose and went to my balcony. The bird there didn't fly away. He slowly reached out a finger and it hopped onto it. I couldn't believe my eyes as he gently stroked its back and neck. It actually shivered with delight from his touch. Finally, he gently raised it to his lips, kissed it, and then waved his hand, sending it lightly into the air. It buzzed his head a few times, then bursting into song, it shot off to the woods.

I joined him.

"Amazing."

"Not really. I truly love them."

"I do as well. But I've never had that happen."

He turned to me. "It is an offshoot of the chemicals that run through my body now." He smiled. "One might say it's a perk."

I angled the cell phone a bit more that I held in my hand. "So when did everything open up for you?"

His eyes drifted off into the past for a moment, and then he looked at me again. "It was near midnight, a very hot and stuffy summer night. As you know my laboratory is near the Thames and it gets quite muggy that time of year."

"I've experienced it."

"I was on perhaps my thousandth batch."

"Maybe more. I didn't jot every experiment down. Sometimes I did one or more in a row."

"Any after effects?"

"Not at first."

Then he held up his right hand. It was beginning to fade. I looked at his face. It was sad.

"You see, I can't absolutely control the process. During moments of great stress or fatigue this happens."

"But..."

He looked me in the eyes. "Telling you this is very distressing to me."

"Why?"

"Because I killed a man."

I must tell you right now that his final words at that moment were a heart stopper. I don't remember writing that about him and I was afraid to say more at that time. So instead, I motioned to go back inside and we did. I turned off my voice recorder and began warming up more tea.

I must leave you at this point to consider how I shall edit, or not, the third portion of this interview, which has unfortunately affected me in a very profound manner.

Sincerely and with love

The Author and Interviewer

John Pirillo