Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $9.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    The Misty Walker
    The Misty Walker
    The Misty Walker
    Ebook88 pages1 hour

    The Misty Walker

    By Caesar Who

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    A grey, asexual man explores his sexuality as well as his childhood trauma on his way to meeting different sorts of women. As a contract problem solver, his client's son gets into a sexual scandal, which puts the protagonist in a moral dilemma between work and justice. On his journey of investigation, he starts his introspection…
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAustin Macauley Publishers
    Release dateMar 31, 2022
    ISBN9781398459465
    The Misty Walker
    Author

    Caesar Who

    Caesar Who is a young, part-time writer, who lives in a peaceful island country, Cyprus, with three furry feline babies. Besides his passion for literature, he works as a psychotherapist who proudly helped many on their mental health. He also holds master degree diploma in psychology and specialised in sexuality.

    Related authors

    Related to The Misty Walker

    Related ebooks

    Suspense For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Fall-down COMEDIAN

      Apr 11, 2021

      Fall-down COMEDIAN
      3 min read

    • Article

      Prohibition

      Sep 10, 2021

      It had been ten days since my last fix. I knew what I was going to do was wrong, but unless you knew the yearning that your body exerts, the internal pull which strangles your very soul into submission, then you cannot judge me. Yes, it was wrong. Ye

      15 min read

    • Article

      The Art Of Small Talk

      May 26, 2023

      The Art Of Small Talk
      5 min read

    • Article

      Crime Wave

      May 10, 2019

      Crime Wave
      13 min read

    • Article

      Life In The past Lane

      Aug 27, 2021

      Life In The past Lane
      5 min read

    • Article

      Time Invents Us

      Sep 29, 2020

      Time Invents Us
      14 min read

    • Article

      The Book of Loki

      Mar 12, 2018

      The Book of Loki
      20 min read

    • Article

      Let’s Say

      Oct 7, 2022

      I magine a sticky, early August morning, around three o’clock. It is dark, the moon blocked by clouds, no streetlights, a siren in the distance, medics running to a heart attack. Imagine a man out on a bike or walking a sick dog, or maybe a woman who

      10 min read

    • Article

      Need For Speed

      Dec 3, 2021

      Need For Speed
      7 min read

    • Article

      The Fortune Teller

      Jul 10, 2021

      My head has a liquid feel to it as I stumble down the street. The bottle of red wine in my belly making it seem like my limbs have become balloons, and at any moment they might float away. Next to me, Michael has a stupid whiskey grin stretched acros

      18 min read

    • Article

      Community Of Peers

      Feb 10, 2021

      After the war, I travelled to a village in the south of the province. It was my intention to vacation for the weekend in an unknown land. I followed a small river that was alternately green beneath the foliage of the forest and blue while it coursed

      6 min read

    • Article

      The Price of Moving On

      Aug 10, 2024

      Content Disclosure: Mild Violence, Supernatural Themes The river had a proper name at one point, but that name moved on, perhaps over the Ferry toward the supposedly greener pastures of its opposite banks, just like everyone else in this damned unrea

      18 min read

    • Article

      Speedboat

      Mar 24, 2022

      Nobody died that year. Nobody prospered. There were no births or marriages. Seventeen reverent satires were written – disrupting a cliché and, presumably, creating a genre. That was a dream, of course, but many of the most important things, I fi nd,

      14 min read

    • Article

      Righteous

      Jan 22, 2019

      Righteous
      8 min read

    • Article

      Longer on Moon

      Sep 22, 2022

      Longer on Moon
      19 min read

    • Article

      The Tomorrow Man

      Mar 10, 2022

      As a Boston-based psychoanalyst, I have met a number of interesting people. There was Marshall who believed that the world was about to be attacked by alien spores. Carson, who was convinced she had been impregnated by the president of the United Sta

      12 min read

    • Article

      Prey

      May 10, 2021

      As I drove slowly towards the mob of angry protestors and my meeting with 200, I thought of 199. The ashes of a once hard man, staring at me with wide eyes that pleaded for hope like a dog begging for treats. I’d somehow found a way to give him that

      41 min read

    • Article

      The Art Of Conversation

      Nov 1, 2023

      The Art Of Conversation
      4 min read

    • Article

      Three Poems

      Jul 1, 2018

      — After the New York Times newsfeed from the week of May 6–11, 2018 This week in which faculty members at the University of Floridashove black graduates offstage for dancing in honor of what is regularly denied them; in which Nordstrom Rackapologizes

      5 min read

    • Article

      Prey

      Mar 10, 2024

      As I drove slowly toward the mob of angry protestors and my meeting with 200, I thought of 199. The ashes of a once hard man, staring at me with wide eyes that pleaded for hope like a dog begging for treats. I’d somehow found a way to give him that h

      41 min read

    • Article

      Forgiveness

      Oct 5, 2023

      Forgiveness
      17 min read

    • Article

      Risqué Business

      Oct 13, 2021

      Risqué Business
      4 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for The Misty Walker

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      The Misty Walker - Caesar Who

      About the Author

      Caesar Who is a young, part-time writer, who lives in a peaceful island country, Cyprus, with three furry feline babies. Besides his passion for literature, he works as a psychotherapist who proudly helped many on their mental health. He also holds master degree diploma in psychology and specialised in sexuality.

      Copyright Information ©

      Caesar Who 2022

      The right of Caesar Who to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

      Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

      A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

      ISBN 9781398459458 (Paperback)

      ISBN 9781398459465 (ePub e-book)

      www.austinmacauley.com

      First Published 2022

      Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

      1 Canada Square

      Canary Wharf

      London

      E14 5AA

      1

      Oscar’s is the best nightclub in town. For a good price, you can please your taste buds with all kinds of fancy cocktails of the secret recipe, or hook up with beautiful, just-old-enough chicks to empty your balls, or simply allow the crushingly loud music to bombard your senses and dance as if tomorrow will be Solomon Grundy’s Saturday. It’s my personal favourite too; every Saturday night’s visit has become my routine since the day I was able to get in. The owner, Mr Oscar, even reserves a special seat in the southeast corner for me on Saturdays. The seat is comfy and with romantically dimmed light where the music reverberates the best in this area.

      The best part is that I don’t have to lose a fortune every time I visit this paradise of orgy, unlike everybody else. Thanks to my occupation, I rarely spend actual cash on anything. I pay people with favours.

      In Oscar’s case, I had earned his extra hospitality by fixing his son’s problem a few years ago. Davis Oscar is a rich and infamous playboy who messes around every day with his old man’s pockets. Not somebody I usually offer to help but when he got too high the other day and punched a reporter in the face, knocking out two upper teeth, Mr Oscar the paternal caregiver couldn’t sit tight anymore. Money can be regained but reputation rarely recovers. So, when he returned to sanity after hearing about his son’s wrongdoings, he called me. He had never called me before. I don’t even know how he acquired my number but given my reputation in the problem-solving business, it’d be understandable he managed to get it from other giant figures.

      I did the cost-benefit analysis swiftly and agreed to help in return for the best seat in my favourite club free of charge.

      Therefore, just the next day, the poor reporter’s dentist ‘accidentally’ pulled two more teeth out from his upper jaw. And in that private, sterilised dentistry room, I appeared. With the stench of blood and the smell of clinical alcohol haunting in the air, I leaned over and whispered to the potential accuser, One more word added on that report you are writing, one more tooth you say goodbye to. I’m afraid you can’t afford to finish that sentence.

      One hour later, when the front-toothless man dashed home, that uncompleted Word document entitled ‘Local Reporter Brutally Assaulted by the Son of Entrepreneur Clark Oscar’ was forever erased from his laptop.

      Thus, here I sit comfortably, consuming free drinks and enjoying a VIP strip dance right in front of me.

      I’m watching as well as my head wandering; they say those who can’t hear the music think those who dance are crazy. I do hear it, loud and crystal clear, and when it is too loud, the pink squishy meat in my skull echoes with it. However, I still consider the dancing as crazy as the madness of Cthulhu tales. I understand the urge of moving one’s torso and limbs to relish the music but ultimately, I fail to comprehend its extreme extent. I see youngsters twisting their bodies of youth and waving them to the rhythms, and at the sight of this orgy, I sense insecurities and incongruities. Young men who hope to advance their careers and raise a family, put on silly faces and adopt ridiculous dance moves to please, pathetically, a few equally young ladies around them. And these young women in peacock mini-dresses and red-bottom heels, who are supposed to live free from shackles of misogynistic social constructs, twerk their booties and flash their ‘assets’ to attract young men. This is all for the sake of their attention-seeking needs. And above all, they behave such incredible joy, which inevitably exposes them in the shade of their collapsing misfortunes that may emerge and crush them any second.

      I’m no such joy demonstrator. That being said, though, I do indeed experience happiness. I do not celebrate the secretion of the little chemicals named dopamine in my head; I just experience such materially synthesised feelings in a minimal way and that of peripherally in a world of feasts of triumph. It’s as if I were a thirsty man unable to acquire water looking at a photo of sour cherry and chilling in a physical state of salivation.

      At this moment, I sip from the Stella in my palm; the golden nectar of rejoicing, waters my stone-cold heart of peace. I lay my sore back down a bit on the sofa and calmly receive the input of the sights of modern morbidity.

      My shoulder is lightly tapped by a lean figure from behind. It’s Clark Oscar, formally dressed, which is an aristocratic law he seldom follows. He puts on his phoney smile and yells over the strong oppression of the loud music, Come, Mr Atticus. I need to show you someone.

      We walk through a long, gothic hallway as the noise slowly fades. We progress on our short trip to a VIP room with a medieval-style door hidden in plain sight, looking like a dead end with dark red fancy wallpaper. The only reason I recognise it’s a door is that it’s not fully closed. Inside, I see a young man weeping and a middle-aged man raging.

      Oh, I recognise the man. It’s the current mayoral candidate, Mr Osman.

      I follow Oscar’s gesture to enter

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1