Hi! How is everyone doing?
   My apologies for being absent for the past two Saturdays. I hope that you forgive me.
   There have been some problems at home, but I've overcome them, and I now have good news. I can finally reveal one of the projects that I've been keeping secret from all of you: it's a book! I just published a book titled, "An Unknown Narrator". It is fiction, has 56 pages, and is very cheap!
   For all of you who have been steadily supporting this blog, here's a sneak peek ...


    “Let’s meet at Starbucks tomorrow, okay?”
    “Yeah, tomorrow. Bye. Fye.”
    “Bye, Leo.”
    Leo drove away in his red Toyota Vios. Fye turned away, and walked under the glow of streetlights in the Lone Houses Subdivision. He was a tall, 20-year-old guy with a muscular body. He was bald. He was wearing a white hoodie over a yellow T-shirt that had red, horizontal stripes. His gray pants were a bit creased near his ankles because of his huge, Caterpillar shoes. He carried a light backpack on his left shoulder.
The wet road glistened in the night, and the place was absolutely quiet. The houses in this neighborhood stood far from each other. The houses were almost a kilometer from one another. The name of the place said it, it was for people who wanted to be alone. Residents couldn’t even see their neighbors from their own houses.
    Fye’s house was on Mattias Drive. It was facing west. He approached his two-storey abode. Its lights were glowing softly against the trees that surrounded it. He could hear his twin sister’s sweet voice. She was chatting on the telephone again.
    He glimpsed something. Or someone.  A man was sitting on the edge of the sidewalk just outside their small gate. The man was wearing shorts, a simple T-shirt, and white rubber shoes. He didn’t see Fye, and he looked like he had been eavesdropping. Fye quietly walked to the sidewalk, and sneaked up behind the man.
    “Hey!”
    The man turned his head upon hearing Fye’s voice. Fye punched the man’s head. The man collapsed on the pavement. Fye crouched beside him, and began beating him up.
    After a few, silent seconds, Fye stood up, and sprinted into his house. His twin sister, Venna, met him at the front door.
    “Stay here,” he warned her as he dropped his backpack on the floor and removed his hoodie. He ran back to the gate as he took out his mobile phone. He dialed the number of the local police. “I just saw a guy attack another guy outside my house. He ran to the northeast from House Number 309 Mattias Drive, Lone Houses Subdivision. Please send someone to chase him.”
    He put the mobile phone back to the pocket of his pants as he kept screaming, “Help! Help!”
    A yellow car was approaching from the north. Fye held the unconscious man’s ankles, lifted them, and dragged the victim off the sidewalk. The yellow car stopped in front of them, and a skinny driver came out. The driver frantically shouted at Fye, “Don’t drag him!”
    It was too late. Fye had dragged the man to the road, and the victim’s head hit the pavement.
    “A man viciously beat him up, I saw it,” Fye explained. “He quickly escaped. We need to send this to the hospital.”
    “Okay, I’ll send him to the hospital,” complied the thin driver.