For Nevermore Season 1

to ignore her.
    Wake up, wake up, wake up!
    “You still think it will be a month?”
    There was a long silence, then a new voice spoke. A deeper voice. A familiar voice, “No, definitely not. I believe we need to act soon.”
    Noella’s throat filled with barbed wire, as she suddenly placed the voice behind her.
    Dr. Foster!

    TO BE CONTINUED…

    The story continues in Episode 3
    ForNevermore: Episode 3
    US: www.amazon.com/dp/B007JLU65M/
    UK: www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007JLU65M/

    or get the full season at one low price:

    Season One Compilation (Episodes 1-6)
    US: www.amazon.com/dp/B007SNNUMW/
    UK: www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007SNNUMW/

    * * * *

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::EPISODE 3::
    CHAPTER ONE

    Dr. William Foster’s Office
    Aurora Falls, New York
    Tuesday morning, October 30

    “How about this one?” Dr. Foster said as he pulled another inkblot card from the pile and held it up to Noella from the other side of the table. It felt like the hundred millionth card he’d shown her, just today, displayed with the same warm but mostly empty smile. “What do you see?”
    “A crab?” Noella said, as unsure of her answer as she always was, just like she was unsure of what the stupid test had to do with anything anyway, or how it was helping her at all.
    Noella had taken the inkblot test five times in the last two years, each one different than the prior, and Dr. Foster had yet to give her a good reason as to why. He told her that the test was similar to the Rorschach test, but his own variation on it, which he used to “monitor her progress.” She wasn’t sure if it was standard practice for shrinks to create “their own version” of tests, but something told her it wasn’t common. So she figured Dr. Foster was either a bold innovator, or a quack.
    No matter how many times she asked, or begged, Dr. Foster wouldn’t tell her if she were getting any of the answers right.
    “There are no wrong responses,” he would usually say, before scribbling something in his notebook. Maybe there were no wrong answers, but if she had been getting them right, she had a feeling that she wouldn’t have to take the test so frequently.
    Dr. Foster held up another card. “A tornado,” Noella said, chewing her lip as he laid the card in the growing pile on the right, scribbled in his notebook, then pulled a fresh card from the left.
    Like her answers, Noella had no idea whether Dr. Foster’s scribbles were good, bad, or indifferent. The only thing she knew for certain was that the exercise made her feel uneasy, though it wasn’t like she could ever feel truly comfortable in a windowless room, empty except for the large wooden table between them with a single chair on either side. It felt like an interrogation room — cold enough to feel glacial, and as oddly out of place as everything in Dr. Foster’s office, located in an otherwise homey old Victorian house.
    Most of the doctors in town had moved to the recently finished medical center, or the new hospital, but Dr. Foster kept his office in the historic district. Built in 1890, as the plaque on the porch proudly announced, the house was as beautiful as it was old. Though the house was certainly large enough, he didn’t live there. He couldn’t have needed more than a few of the rooms, and there were no other doctors sharing the space. Noella didn’t see why he kept the house/office unless it was to make patients like Noella feel at ease — patients who didn’t want to see him at his Kings Point Psychiatric Hospital-based office.
    Noella loved the house, inside and out — hardwood floors, old and winding wooden stairs wrapping around an ornate banister, beautiful arches, and what looked like lots of secret little rooms. In a picture-perfect postcard town, the doctor’s office fit right in.
    “Now what do you see?” He held up a card that looked vaguely like two faces.
    “Justin Bieber,” Noella said smiling.
    Dr. Foster scribbled, apparently oblivious to the joke.
    “No, not really Justin Bieber!” Noella laughed. “It looks like two women. Two sad women.” She felt stupid for laughing, and suddenly as icy as the empty room, imprisoned across from Dr. Foster’s