Heart-o-7roses

“There must be a mistake,” you said, clutching your mug of tea in your hand and blinking blearily at the burly man standing in the door of your small suburban townhouse. Your hair was mussed from sleep and it was entirely too early for your brain to be challenged by strange people asking you questions that made absolutely no sense. “No, we’ve had no problem with our electricity.” “We’ve been getting complaints from this general area about the electricity going out at random times,” the man said calmly, his brown eyes fixed unnervingly on yours, “So we’re just doing some r

He looked beautiful. His cold, calculating, gray eyes scanned the controls of the hyper-advanced ship and his long, pale fingers deftly manipulated the navigation. He looked just as you remembered before the tragedy. “Khan?” you whispered from behind the captain’s chair he lounged it. His ramrod straight shoulders slumped and one hand traveled to his forehead. Without turning he spoke, “Who comes to torment me?” his cool, smooth voice washed over you; it had been much to long since you had heard his silken voice, “Which memory pulls at my heart now? Whose ghost haunts my guilt ridden conscience this time?