How then should I introduce my friend to you, the intelligent and ever popular Mr Davinport. The Individual whom single handed brought down a Bulgarian Witches cult, and has solved over a hundred other mysteries some of which involved great self sacrifice of my Friend Mr Davinport. He is the most peculiar of individuals preferring his privacy to the company of others. To this day I have no idea where the man lives, only that if it is a single residence home how great the dwellings must be. His occupation is just as alluding, but what great fantasies it makes. I suppose I should tell the story of how I met Mr. Davinport, and give a detailed account of how he was able to diagnose my problems, and solve them in such a magnificent way.





It was a coldest of winters that December in 2012. The dorms heating at the University had all but gone out. This of course is an issue especially for anyone living in the desolate place such as Wyoming. I must have worn several layers of clothing looking quite thick as one could imagine. Most of my fellow peers had returned home, and I could only imagine them as curled up in a bed with a warm heater while I sat alone catching a cold.





It wasn’t even the cold that was the worst part of the December recess, the worst came with those strange dreams that begin while the last of the residents had left. At first the dream was of static a powerful white noise inside of my head the kind that you see if you were to turn on an old television. It seemed odd at first nothing strange besides the fact that it continued to happen. It was after three nights in a row of strange static that I saw a face inside of my dream, Divilla… At first I thought my mind was making a face as a mind will out of random spots on a wall, or leaves on the ground. No there was an actual face, an unhappy screaming face that awoke me in the dead of the night. How strange still that there should be a light across the campus in the research computer department. It wasn’t as if there was a professor out late in the night looking to pull together some last minute project. I chalked the dream, and light up to coincidence. The dream was advancing because I was lonely, and spending my free time drinking a smuggled in bottle of liquid courage rather than praying by my Bible like a good Christian. The light was of course from some over achieving janitor who could not go onto break without having cleaned his share of the building. I would soon learn from my friend that coincidence is often the mind trying to resolve that it is still rational.

It had been two days since the incident with the face. Ever since I refused to touch a bottle, but the static didn’t go away. It was now a week into my recess from school when the worst of nights came upon me. The Wyoming weather proved true to its word, and winter roared outside like a lion. I was effetely shut inside of my dorm locked away from the world. The heaters were broke, and no amount of blankets could keep the chill from my body. The light in my room shut off, as the wind must have found a way to damage the electrical components. Alone in the dark I sat too cold to sleep, and too dark to read.





There was no clock in my room only that which was on my phone and that had long given out in the middle of the night. I could tell that it was late, but the storm continual rage with immense force. I then heard the static it was light and soft against the sound of the storm, but certainly there. I thought that perhaps a fellow student was in the dorms after all, and they had found power in an odd place, and they were turning on a TV to see if the end of the world had finally come. I ventured out to see if my theory was valid.







The sound continued as I led myself through the halls, and down the stairs. It was becoming noticeably stronger. I opened the door for the stairs, when out should pop a man. He was a stranger to me, but dressed formally especially when compared to my sweat pants and layers of t-shirts. He wore a collared shirt with a pea coat, and wing tip shoes. He looked to be a young man in his 30s perhaps younger. He studied me for a moment then shook his head quiet perplexed, and asked me.





“Do you live here?”





I answered, “Of course, do you?”





He shook his head going to respond to my question when out of the shadow of the night A gut wrenching scream sounded down through the halls. It was a terrible scream the kind that would cause a man to shrivel away to a safe place. That is exactly what was on my mind, but the stranger took off in the location of danger. Whoever this man was, he obviously was not a professor of the liberal arts.







I followed him if only to keep the impression that I to was of the same sex as he. Men often rush into danger for the sake of looking like men. I had no notion that I was in perfectly good hands. Upon the chase toward the screams we happened upon a girl’s room. Obviously it was a girls room due to the names written on the door in large pink writing. Stacy, and Jennifer. The stranger knocked as loud as a man can, and I felt inclined to do the same. You can never be too sure that someone heard you. At this point I was all over with the cold as the fear and small jog had caused me to perspire through several layers of clothing. Not a very heroic smell, but a manly smell.







It must have been several breaths that we had taken when with a great force the stranger kicked in the door. Impressive, but I was sure that she was just on her way to open the door for us. My stranger friend entered first, as it was the gentlemanly thing for me to do. I entered after, and came upon the confusing sight that stood in front of our unlucky eyes.







A woman lay in the middle of the room with static pouring out of her where the blood should have been. Liquid static covered the walls, and the noise was intense, the standing static blood had noise. The woman who used to be alive, and was very freshly killed for there was no smell. She had to have been the one to scream. The only trouble was that her killer was nowhere in the room that had only one door, with locked in place windows that were created to prevent such an event. Of course the static was the strangest part of the entire thing. Who had heard of static blood?







My stranger friend looked to me, and held out his hand, “Mr. Davinport, might I ask who you may be.”







I took his hand in shock, “Well I am James T. Byrin Sir.” That would have been better then “Jaaam…*blug*” I like to think that most people would vomit on seeing their first dead body as I did.

Mr. Davinport, or Dash as he insisted on being called by anyone he had met for longer than an hour, sat in one of the chairs that I had in my dormroom. We pondered over the dead girl, and we both had remarked how terrible it was that no one could get to us. The conversation was mostly awkward as is hard to converse with a person when the only thing in common between the two parties is a dead body.







The storm continued on in the backdrop the windows were becoming frosted on the inside as well as the out. Dash finally broke the silence, “Are there others living in the dorm.”





I had shook my head no, “I thought I was the only one I didn’t know there was a girl on the bottom floor.”





Dash was studying me oddly, “How have you been sleeping James?”





What he said struck a chord from the inside of my soul. I had almost forgotten that I was also dreaming of static, the face of static, and the static blood. I opened up immediately about my dreams, and the face. I did it professionally, but with a good amount of energy. Dash listened intently to every detail. After exposing ever fact and theory I had about the subject of static I must have sounded crazy, but what is crazy is how calm a man can be after seeing a dead body, definitely not a professor of the liberal arts.







Dash had looked out to the research facility where I had first told him about the strange light in the night that I woke up to. He pointed to it, “That light?”





My heart must have skipped a beat because it was true that what he pointed to was in fact the light that I had seen. Of course it could have been left on by a careless professor, or grounds keeper. The problem with that theory is that all of the lights in the computer research facility are automated to save energy. If it was still on that meant someone was still there.







Dash stood up about to take his leave, “I will be off then to see if some unfortunate soul is trapped like ourselves, and offer my assistance.”







I stood up immediately with him in no way was I going to let him leave me behind, and end up some strange static liquid upon the ground. Dash of course insisted that I should stay put, and everything would be perfectly fine, but after my insisting Dash agreed.







I put on a coat to go along with my sweaty layers, and sweat pants. We ventured out in the hall, down the stair, and out the door. I never once looked back toward the dead girl’s room. Perhaps if I had looked I would have noticed the static footprints that not haunted the hall.





Dash was the first who pushed open the door open out into the blizzard. I felt that all the air had been sucked out of me the cold instantly freezing me to my soul. It was difficult walking forward through the deep cover, and more than one I felt that the hike was too tremendous of an undertaking even though that end was in front of me.

It took us some time before we were able to make it to the room with the light on. The problem with the light was that it was suppose to remain on only if someone was in the room. The current predicament was that the room was empty. Upon entering it a faint static noise was wrestling in my ear.







“Dash do you hear it” It was a quiet it whisper, but I do not know what I was whispering for.







“Yes of course I can.” He whispered back. Good, I thought, I was right to whisper.







The room was large it was where the students of the computer research department worked on the world’s largest supercomputer. It was the pride of the school. It was rumored to be the tampering with Artificial Intelligence, but everyone agreed that was a bit too sci-fi.







Dash began looking around studying the room with an eye for awareness. It came to me that I should follow in step. What the devil we are looking for is beyond me, but I didn’t want my friend to feel strange. First there was static much louder then there was a voice.







“Hello Dash….”





It was a good thing that I did not keep my head under the table because when that beautiful women’s voice sounded I jumped up fast, completely careless of my head. Dash kept looking around despite the voice. He did not look worried, and perhaps that was because he did not notice the very dead lady that was not so dead anymore in the room with us. Her face was half static, and voice sounded electronic. Dash looked up at her, and then went back to searching for something.





“Hello Divilla” Dash said with a grin on his face like he was meeting an old enemy for the first time after a long period away.







I started at her in fear, Divilla…. That name was so different and foreign, yet I had already known that was the statics name. The ringing in my ears began to grow, and I was sure that my brain was going to begin dripping out the side of my head. Divilla turned toward me, and rested her eye on my sweating face. Naturally my bowels began to turn, and I had a very urgent need to find a washroom. What was going to occur in said room is not for polite company. Divilla walked toward me, her eyes never pulling away.





“Who is your friend Dash, can he hear the static, will he join me.” At the end of that sentence a more people stitched of flesh, and static started coming in. A total of ten entered the room putting Dash, and myself at a bit of odds against our new company. It truly was more of just Dash as at this point I felt my hands becoming noise, and static.

They spoke together in unison the very idea that they were of a single mind was the only possibility, “Please, come with me Dash, I miss you.” The voice was cold, and robotic. The voiced called for Dash, but it was turning me into static.





At last it seemed that Dash has found what he was looking for. An electronic device of some sort, I am terribly sorry that I could not be more specific. I am a writer by trade not some sort of blue collared ruffian, though I have been known to skip wearing shin guards during cricket. Dash pointed the device at our robotic enemy, and pulled the trigger. The device emitted a loud pulsing ray that caused me to plug my ears. The screams of the 10 were much worse, but the static was falling off of them, and draining out of me.







I would never have believed it to be true unless I was there. The only trouble was that I of course fainted from the whole experience. I found myself in bed the next morning with a pounding head that reminded me of my failed attempt at rugby. I never believed for a moment that what I had witnessed was true. I am a scientific man, and there was no conclusive evidence that I was at all involved with a man named Dash, in a scheme to topple a robotic enemy who fed on people though static. I didn’t believe it all until the police came to my door asking about dead students.





I will end my entrance here with note that this is the least of the strange tails that Mr. Davinport, and myself have been a part of. His heroic stature, and my elegant grace will return forthwith soon with “The Disastrously Dangerous Hall Director”