Code of Disjointed Letters: ( Doomsday Will Arise From the Past by JT Alblood Read Free Book Online

this one had revealed himself early.
    “You are only challenging us in order to mask your own fears,” I muttered.
    Everyone turned to me, and Fatin scowled.
    “I know how to get out of the labyrinth,” he said. “Where will you be when I am out? But, still, I like you. I don’t want you to be eliminated in the first week—your readers might return your book.” A slight grin crept across his tick garnished face. He was playing the classic psychological game of intimidating one’s rivals.
    Gizem, the astrologer, spoke calmly. “You realize you have shared your existing advantage with your rivals, thus destroying what little chance you had.”
    Fatin’s expression became more aggressive. I wondered if the viewers would like him or if he was right that he would be one of the winners? My rivals were obviously skilled, and didn’t have any idea how to get out of the labyrinth. Would I discover it? Or should I just close my eyes and pray for someone else to be eliminated? I got up, grabbed some coffee, and went to the smoking room.
    In the evening, after dinner, as I moved to my room, I passed by the lounge and saw Hıdır, the cleric, and Ender talking. The others weren’t around, but, as I entered my room, it bothered me to realize that I didn’t have any sense of belonging. I switched off the overhead light, leaving on the night-light, and the elongated shadows set my teeth on edge. I enhanced the darkness by closing my eyes and forced myself to relax into sleep. My thoughts had been running constantly and I needed to relax my mind. But I only turned over and over in bed and grew more tired as my agitated mind kept me on the border of sleep.
    I woke up early with an unpleasant metallic taste in my mouth and a body frozen in fatigue as memories of a dream came to me in fragments.
    In my dream, I had been wandering the streets of an unfamiliar city. Rather than feeling lost, I had a desperate sense of not being able to find what I was looking for. I was trying to find someone but I only wandered hopelessly without asking for help. I gave up and went home by train, exhausted and defeated. Then I was at a train station in another city. I was trying to find someone in the crowd at the station. In my despair, I fell to the ground ashamed and furious. Who was I looking for, and why had this dream bothered me so badly?
    I couldn’t remember the rest of the dream, so I got up and noticed a paper on my table. It read as follows:
    “Dear contestant, in today’s afternoon session, it is your turn to express your thoughts and have a personal interview with the host. We kindly request you not be late as this will affect the live stream.”
    As I looked at the paper, some faint letters written in pen caught my attention. Bending the paper in my hand, I tried to reveal the thin, scraped lines in order to see what was written. All I could see was this: Maria O …
    After a morning chat, a few cups of coffee, and some private thoughts on what I might say that would help me promote my book, I went to the interview room. The host was sitting at a table and checking his notes while waiting for me. He wore a suit, a smart tie, and a microphone on his collar.
    I greeted him and he lifted his head and smiled at me sincerely. As he was checking his notes, he turned over the decorative hourglass at the corner of the table. “Welcome back,” he said. I noticed the cameras were recording and the voice recorder was on. The spotlights grew brighter, so I straightened in my chair, set my book beside me, and stared at the host.
    “First of all, I’d like to ask you how you like our studio and the format of the competition?” he asked.
    “The studio is simple and very well designed,” I answered enthusiastically. “It’s beyond my expectations. So far, everything has worked smoothly. But the competition is really tough. It will not be easy to stand out among the others. My first priority, though, is to use this opportunity to promote my