The Surprising Life and Death of Diggory Franklin
|Submitted by G.S. Williams on Tue, 04/21/2015 - 12:12|
I waited until the kids were asleep before approaching Dahlia about what happened. We met in the kitchen, where I poured myself a glass of water.
"So, what's up?" Dahlia asked, leaning across the table. She was wearing a sweater and dark pants.
"When Henry went missing this afternoon, he wasn't in the apartment."
"Bianca said you found him in his room," Dahlia said, but her voice went up at the end, almost making it a question. She raised an eyebrow, showing that what I had said didn't make sense to her.
|Submitted by G.S. Williams on Fri, 04/17/2015 - 05:13|
"Have you seen Henry?" I asked.
Bianca looked up from the mural she was painting in the Astronomy Hub.
"Why would I have seen Henry? He's never down in this section. The doors are locked," she said, turning back to the wall and dabbing on some paint with her brush.
"Well, he wasn't in our quarters. I was making lunch for the kids, and I turned around and he was gone."
Bianca tilted her head back towards me abruptly. "Wait, you mean he's missing?" Her eyes were wide.
I nodded and she put down her paints and rushed towards me. My hands were a bit shaky.
|Submitted by G.S. Williams on Tue, 04/14/2015 - 10:58|
I folded up the paper and put it down on the end-table beside me. I looked at my best friend, Bianca, and took a deep breath.
"We both know that's impossible. Diggory died almost two years ago. Henry is coming up on his first birthday, and even accounting for gestation his conception would have been months after Diggory's death. Perhaps you're imagining some sort of similarity, all babies seem alike to me."
|Submitted by G.S. Williams on Mon, 04/13/2015 - 16:16|
The television was playing.
“Billionaire Calla Wiley-Franklin has returned stateside after more than a year abroad. Viewers might remember Dempsey Franklin of Franklin Investments, who was killed in the 2008 Franklin Building explosion. His son Diggory Franklin took over the company until 2009, where he was put on trial for murder and then exonerated before his death that September. Calla, Diggory’s wife, inherited the company and the family fortune. What might this mean to the markets, Bob?”
|Submitted by G.S. Williams on Fri, 07/12/2013 - 02:58|
In case no one reads the Blog -- For the foreseeable future, I will be offline, so there will be no posts, no stories, no reviews. There have been significant changes to my work and family life that require some re-grouping.
I am immensely grateful for the readers who have taken the time to read my work, and I will return to finish these stories as soon as I am able.
I just have no idea when that will be.
|Submitted by G.S. Williams on Thu, 05/30/2013 - 07:55|
We celebrated Thanksgiving with Frank and stayed in his penthouse for a couple of weeks, ferrying between campus and the apartment with bodyguards. Frank went out of his way to redesign two rooms so I gained a lab and Bianca had her own art studio. He was a very gracious host, though I worried about his arm healing properly and whether or not they would catch the last bank robber.
|Submitted by G.S. Williams on Wed, 05/29/2013 - 12:44|
|Submitted by G.S. Williams on Mon, 05/27/2013 - 04:32|
I borrowed a bit of money from Calla in 2007 and took it to Matt in 2008 to help him fund the night he took Diggory Franklin to the underground mob betting ring. I had made arrangements with Matt to put Mr. Franklin in a compromising position that we could leverage for money, but that was a very loose plan.
|Submitted by G.S. Williams on Fri, 05/10/2013 - 10:14|
My sister Calla had lived with the death of our parents for more than a decade. She lost her adoptive parents, the Wileys, a year before meeting Diggory Franklin in 2008. I had been sent back in time by the Continuity Integrity Agency to make sure that Calla built a time machine that Diggory would use before his death in 2009.
The only problem was, the Wileys' death provided the funds that paid for Calla's doctoral studies. Those courses led to the time machine. So, to make sure the machine was built, I had to make sure the Wileys' died.
|Submitted by G.S. Williams on Mon, 04/15/2013 - 02:18|
When I was a kid I would tell my friends I had a busy summer upon my return to school -- and a "busy summer" entailed farm chores, reading books, playing with my sister, shopping trips, swimming in the creek, and maybe, just maybe, travelling somewhere.
On my CIA final exam, I learned a whole new definition of busy.