MY HATCH POCKET JOURNAL, BILLY COY [mobi reader TXT] 📗

for her superiority, and aliens’ destination was here too.

In the Eastern south of Can city, in a sparsely populated moderate neighborhood lived Matt Coolio, an eighty five year old Caucasian American diverse-scientist with European decent who had lived many years of hard experience although his looks denied it.

Matt was sort of a scientific wizard, with air of magic all around him, which had almost sent him to the “gallows” sixty years ago, but saved by the kindness of the judge who instead ruled in his favor and gave him fifty years of hard labor in a maximum prison whereas the whole world screamed for his blood. It was betrayal yet deserving.

Sixty years ago prior to the present day Matt Coolio was the best scientist in the world and the beloved of all for his invention of a polio


drug that not only prevented and cured children and all polio victims of the disease but also reformed their already would have been deformed bones. This was a new beginning in the world of medical science and thanks to Matt Coolio.

However fate had something dreadful in store. After two years of progressive and accurate extermination of polio, the unthinkable and unexpected evolved. Child and all those who had been given hope again by Matt’s drug started to curse the day of its discovery. It was antagonistic to the whole world and a real blow to Matt and his now billionaire status and his road to winning the scientific discovery of the century Nobel Prize. All those who had achieved from his drug before were now deteriorating from its cause: they would start by developing literally boiling and numerous big sores on their body and slowly suffocated to death as chicken without a head. Not even Matt could reverse this unexpected development in his own invention. The cause was rare and unfound. It made all scientists around the world scratch their heads so hard for answers to the stoppage of such unprecedented occurrence, but none could figure out a solution to the problem.

Four million people lost their lives all around the world. Of which three million and sixty of those were children, and it was called a genocide by one man, a once celebrated and most loved scientist: Matt Coolio, a young twenty five year old scientist whose future seemed so bright compared to all his contemporaries and many who had come before him, yet now he was the curse of the whole world, being compared to Mussolini and Hitler, the two most “evil” men who had shook and brutally terrorized the whole world in the twentieth century.

After fifty years behind bars and the next ten years of freedom, Matt was still a scientist, for his love of science, but in the new age, he was silent and for himself. Whatever science he did was now in his large and well defined hi-tech basement laboratory in the confines of his modest


house. The world had probably forgotten and forgiven his past. He was now a common man without a scientist practicing license. The license had also been scraped from him, never to practice any science related works ever again.

On one rainy night Matt was in the kitchen preparing himself a cup of coffee and he heard a scrambling noise rip through his house, then something instantly fell down. On rushing toward the living room, it was his godson Bob lying by the staircase in a pool of blood. He was all wet from the rain. The long-thick black coat he had on covered him and shades covered his eyes. He was average in size and six foot tall and in his early twenties.

“…Oh my God…!” Matt rushed to him, “Bob what happened?” He got down and rested his head onto his laps. “Matt, he’s back…,” whined Bob, in a lot of pain. “Who’s back?” Bob passed out. Moving away the coat from his left shoulder, a deep cut was revealed, with a sharp star blade stuck in it. The wound still bled. “Damn it Bob, we’ve got to dress this up, we’ve got to get you on the table before you blood out of life.” Matt quickly got up and carried Bob to his basement laboratory.

It took him an hour of careful removal of the blade from the cut, and before dressing the wound up he applied on it one of his trusted medicines and then wrapped it up with a plaster. All that time Bob was sedated.

Three hours later, in his bedroom, lying on his back, under bedcovers, which covered up to his waist area, with no shirt on, Bob regained his consciousness and Matt was seated there, beside the bed watching him, with a smile on his face. “What happened?” Bob tried to sit up but he was too weak to get up. “You tell me boy.”


Bob’s face was pale and the crease marks on his forehead as he lay back on the bed revealed he was still in a lot of pain. Oddly, the shades were still on his face, covering his eyes.

“Before you passed out you said he was back. Whom were you talking about?” asked Matt.
“That vampire bastard Willow and his stubborn girlfriend Madia…” Matt’s face looked glimmer and his eyes dilated. “I thought they had
both died it that fire.”

“So did I, till this evening when they both paid me an unpleasant surprise visit, from where…, only God knows…they both looked different, but I knew it was them” Bob sounded so disappointed and grieved.

“What could be his mission this time around?” asked Matt. “I am not sure, but it’s certainly not pleasant.”
Willow was a very strong vampire lord that both Bob and Matt had
fought and thought had eternally exterminated from earth two years ago. Two years ago Willow was on the mission of exterminating all human-kind for vampires to take their place in the whole world, but that didn’t happen at the watchful eye of Bob and his guardian Matt. With the military and police’s enforcement, and with Bob and Matt’s secretly joined force, Willow and his large gang of vicious and very lethal vampires had been stopped and exterminated.

Their mission had been, first Can City, and then they would extend wider to the whole world, but their efforts never exceeded Can City, which too, they didn’t manage to take over, given its sophisticated and advanced technology that was largely in the hands of “normal” human- beings, so the vampires stood no chance.


These vampires, with sharp human intelligence, knowledge of how to use all kinds of weapons and their capability of transforming into gigantic “killing-machine” wolves, four times the size of an average human-being, had almost taken over earth. When transformed into wolves, they were faster in speed and had very large limbs with sharp claws. They could kill an army of ten armed soldiers at once in a minute. These vampire wolves had large protruding scary green eyes and every tooth on their strong jaws was strongly gripped, hard and sharp like a razor, but still their canines stood out: they were stronger, larger and sharper.

They had killed one million people in Can City alone. It had been a bloody and very destructive battle. But now, with Willow still alive, it seemed as though they were back to pick up from the left pieces.

On a freezing night, at Willow’s large and fancy club, the heat was high: the groove was high; people of all ages grooved to the DJ’s spinning music as though all the troubles in the world were history; erotic dances and smashing dance moves filled the dance floor and it was really loud; a commotion of party people: wild and funky.

Upstairs, Marshal, a strong and tough looking, fairly tall mid-forties guy walked to a restricted part of the club, for only the owners of the club and their associates; it was a specious area, sound proof, with picture frames of fierce looking great historical vampires of the past hanging on the walls, all through the hallway, count Dracula having his place there too. All through the hallway hanging from the walls were fire touches that provided the fairly bright light.

When Marshal got to the room he was headed, there were two muscular big guys guarding the door. They looked ready to block him from getting in.


“I want to see Mr. Willow please,” Marshal begged kindly, “would you kindly stand aside and let me in.” It was a simple request but commanding too.

One of the guards clenched his fists and stepped forward, right before Marshal, barely leaving any space between them. Such a mean looking and big gigantic fellow, you would think Marshal would pee in his pants and excuse himself before hell broke loose for him, but no sir, he was not the kind of fellow to easily run for cover when danger showed its ugly face. Before Mr. big guy could say another scary word for Marshal to free easily, he (Marshal) had already thrown a strong and critically punishing punch to his balls and he was “Bang!” against the wall and down on the floor crying for his destructed groin, touching and squeezing it, for the pain to fade away. “Oh my God, you son of a bitch,” cried the big guy in painful stress.

The other big guy on seeing his fellow match out, down and cursing the comparably small guy, he took to his feet and without looking back fled and was soon out of sight. “I never want to cause harm to security, but you called for it big guy,” said Marshal. And before he let himself into the room, he left the big guy with a thorough kick to his head. “Ah…,” the big guy cried some more.

Walking into the largely specious fancy room, well decorated, with fire touches and big and long light red candles rightly positioned, with organized sofa seats, large closets and a big dressing mirror, Marshal slammed shut the door at his back and then Willow and his girlfriend Madia who were in passionate and wild love making with their vampire teeth and energy spilled out in ecstasy, sprang out of their gigantic bed with beast face-like poles at every corner, at once, and flew into the air and finally and firmly with their feet gripped down on the floor at either side of the bed, like they were ready for combat, and their totally naked bodies exposed to Marshal, they eased up their mean looking and scary


vampire posture faces, on realizing who had invaded their sweet romantic privacy.

In a comic way Marshal briefly covered his face with both his hands after seeing their nakedness. “Would you please put on some clothes, you look awful,” he said.

“It’s you damn it who invaded our time,” Marshal replied angrily, with a Russian accent, “Would you please be the one to dress up your eyes with some sunglasses.”

Marshal laughed. “You never cease to amaze me Willow.” “I am like your clown, am I not?” Willow was still angry and so sad that Marshal had invaded his best time; his face was still