After yet another failed relationship, Erik was just about done with the whole dating thing. Being a Sim of Faith, he even toyed with the notion of joining a Monastery and becoming a Monk Priest. Yes, he would have to give up his secular music, but he could attempt what Tchaikovsky did, and write church music, equally fulfilling, perhaps even more so. He even played around with a few pieces to get a feel for it. Then he found himself in a bit of a funk and wrote what he felt was his biggest hit, yet. “Freeing Myself”. He’d yet to license it, but that would happen soon. Why those who govern his world put restrictions on just how many songs you could license in a certain time frame was insane to him. So, he waited. Sitting on the one he felt was the Big One. He could feel it in his bones.
One night after he got back home from a concert, his sister was all excited about something. “Erik,” she greeted him with a big hug, hanging out in the castle foyer for his return. “You’ll never guess whose coming to stay with us! Oh, I can’t wait for you to meet her.”
“Her? Are you trying to set me up again? Bree, need I remind you Alyse Bennett and I got nowhere. You set us up, too.”
Brianna took a step back and narrowed her luminous blue eyes up at him. “I admitted that was a mistake ages ago. I didn't use my ‘intuition’ for lack of a better word, on the situation. This time it’s different. I know this Sim. She was my roommate back in University. Trust me, you’ll like her. Oh, I just can’t wait until you two meet. She’s perfect for you. She’s beautiful, she loves music. She comes from a good family —”
“Tell me,” Erik smirked. “Is she tall with dark hair, by chance?”
“What? No.”
“Then I’m not interested. The Romance Guru mentioned such a Sim was in my future. Tillie wasn't who he meant, as it turned out. No, Bree, I’m done. I’m just going to stick to my music, it’s what I do best.”
“But, but, Erik you've always wanted a family.”
He shrugged, “I've got all of you.”
With that he flashed his sister a wan smile and trudged up those three flights of stairs to his room in the Tower.
The next day dawned brightly. Winter, it was still cold. Erik took a glimpse out of his bedroom window to see his Stan over by the outdoor fireplace. What was he doing? He appeared to be adding split logs to the adobe fireplace and then before Erik could get his window open, the plum thing was almost always sticking, to yell at the guy, ‘Stan’ lit the fire.
“Oh, my gosh no. No!” Erik raced down the stone stairs, three full flights and ran around the castle to the backyard. As he feared the Sim had caught himself on fire! “Fire! Fire!” Erik hollered. Spock and Brianna ran out of the house to grab up their toddlers busy just yards away playing on their toddler gym. Seraj, ever ready for a game, evaded his father’s grasp. Erik snatched him up just as he neared the blazing fireplace and ran around the keep to safety. Erik grabbed the fire extinguisher and proceeded to apply it to the fire. Sadly, it was too late to save his fan. “No,” Erik sobbed, still applying the fire retardant to the out-of-control blaze. Several feet in front of the clay fireplace the grass was burnt. Scorched. He wondered if the blackened grass would ever be the same?
From the direction of the kitchen, Grimmie approached, all dressed in dark gray, the hem of his robe disappearing in curling fingers of smoke. This entity gave Erik the creeps. He approached, cautiously and tried to plead with the being, again, to no avail. Wesley Weston was gone. Amidst his shock, he pulled out his cell phone and called the authorities. Finally, sirens blaring, the Fire Department, plus the Windenburg Police showed up.
“Hey, you’re Erik Cantrell,” one officer said, as he approached. “Whoa, that’s some barbecue you had going. What happened?”
“A fan with a penchant for hanging around got cold. He decided to light a fire in this fireplace. I tried to warn him, we hadn't had a chance to fire proof it yet, but I wasn't in time. By the time I got down here, I live up there,” Erik pointed to the fourth floor tower, “it was too late.” He handed over the spent fire extinguisher to the Fire Chief who walked up.
Erik shook his blond head, “I tried to put it out but my little nephew got in the way, so I had to take him to safety, first. He’s only just two.”
“But you did try to save this fellow, right?” the police officer said, scribbling notes in a small black notebook.
“By the time I got back, Wesley was deceased.”
“You’re a doctor, too? How did you know he was dead?”
“Grimm,” Erik cleared his throat. “That is to say the Grim Reaper was here to do his job.”
“The what?” Both the officer and the Fire Chief chorused, giving each other a ‘yeah, right’ glance of disbelief.
"I tried to plead with him on behalf of Wesley, but all he wanted was my autograph."
“Sir,” the police officer said, taking Erik by the arm. “Perhaps we should take you down to the hospital.” He glanced over at the fireman and made a circle motion with his index finger by his own head. The Fireman nodded slowly and mouth the words, “Nut case.”
“No, really, I’m fine.” Erik gently wrested himself out of the officer's grasp.
He forgot that most Sims couldn't see the Grim Reaper. His family was ‘gifted’ with psychic abilities. Erik should never have ignored his nightmares. Well, the first one he took to heart. To date, he hadn't included his sister and brother-in-law in any of his Charity Events.
The second one he relegated to his possibly having “Cold Feet”. Yet, it still ended badly.
With tears welling up in his eyes, making them far more luminous than usual, Erik excused himself. “Do you have all that you need?”
“Yes, I believe so. Just be available for questioning.”
Erik nodded, trying to keep the contents in his stomach down. “Will do,” he said and went back inside. Who knew that his life-long dream of becoming a star would be the death of an innocent Sim? This shook Erik to his core. What was he supposed to do now?
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