If any of the characters from the TV show Castle show up in this story they are not mine. They belong to the wonderful people at ABC

This is not exactly follow up to No Tomorrow. It is in the future
We will have to see where this story takes me because it is actually writing itself and I have no control of what it is doing. It has a mind of its own

Can someone please come save me? I am being held prisoner inside my keyboard

A dreary overcast day in New York City.

The sun is hidden behind the storm clouds. Rain is pelting the windows leaving streaks of water mixed with the dirt from the city. It is obvious that no one had cleaned the glass in a very long time

She enters the lobby and is greeted by the building's security officer

"Good morning ma'am" he smiles to the woman as she approaches the elevator

The ride to the second floor seems to take longer than she remembers

She steps out of the cab, approaches the front door of the loft, and inserts her key. She has not been here in a very, very long time. There was really no need to come to this place. There is nothing still here of any real importance to her

As she steps inside the main room it is painfully obvious that no one has lived here in a very long time.

The furniture is covered with cotton drop cloths to keep the dust at bay. All the electrical devices from the refrigerator to the table lamps have been unplugged. The drapes on the windows are drawn to keep the direct sunlight from damaging any of the contents of this space.

The environmental system has been placed in the vacation mode to only come on if the temperature were to become extreme either hot or cold but not to operate in the comfortable occupied mode normally

She makes a quick sweep of the main room looking to be sure nothing has happened to any of the items that were here. These items that were treasures to the owner.

The Grand Piano. The poker table. Even the ship model on the table. Everything seems to be unharmed

Even though the mood inside the loft is somber, the memories are vivid and happy. Walking thru the dining room and into the kitchen reminds her of the past events that occurred here. Memories of better times. More playful Memories of diner parties attended by all the best friends anyone could ever have.

The kitchen is organized but quiet. The pantry is empty of staples, but all the appliances are ready to be awakened at any moment for a fast breakfast or a Sunday brunch with loved ones

She moves to the bedroom. The bed is made, and then a cover placed to protect it from the dust. The closets still contain some items of clothing but are only partially full. Most of the clothes that were formerly kept there were gone and only the less worn and out of style remain. These items will be best suited for charity

The bathroom is void of any personal items. All the cosmetics, hair care, oral care and skin care toiletries are gone.

There are no fresh towels on the hangers beside the shower. There is no soap or shampoo waiting for the next to lather up.

The study is eerily empty. The book cases are still filled with all the first editions and personally signed copies of books that were collected over the years.

Books from all the writers that were personal friends and at the same time competitors of his work. Reference books used to guarantee accuracy in the story lines. Making sure every detail was accurate down to the last drop of blood described

There are still many photographs left on the shelves. Photographs from happier times. Playful pictures of the entire family frolicking on the beach, at the park or at a faire. Photographs taken during vacation trips to Europe, Asia, Hawaii, and other exotic places

The painting that has hung over the desk from the beginning of her memories of this room. The image that brought attention to the man that occupied that chair. The image of a never ending stairway exemplifying the infinite imagination of the man behind the stories

She sits down at the desk and looks across the room and tries to envision what it was like for him to reside here and weave his tales. The images that appeared in his mind and were transferred to paper or more accurately computer that brought happiness to his readers or sometimes sadness to their hearts He seemed to have the knack to do both at the same time.

Either way he was the inspiration for many others

After a few moments, she reaches out and opens the top desk drawer. Knowing the man who formerly resided here, she was surprised that nothing jumped out from the desk.

She gently picked up several items and examined them. She almost felt as if she were reaching for something forbidden. This place where he performed his magic was sacred. No one had been allowed to look into his secrets His slight of hand where he was taking simple words and turning them into stories that pulled people in with wild abandon

But the drawer contained the usual contents. Pencils, pens, a note pad with scribbling on the cover and many hundreds of metal paper clips, all linked together forming a very long chain necklace. The sight of this gives her rise to laugh because she knew what this represented

In the right hand drawer she finds the contents more interesting. There are several journals. These hard bound books are all dated. The words on oldest is faded to the point that it has almost disappeared but appears to begin in the early 1990's

Once she opens the cover and begins reading the tale inside, she is swept in like a riptide pulling her deeper and deeper into its grasp.

The book is a diary. It contains the musings of its owner. A man broken hearted over the loss of his true love