Friday Oct 1st - Evening.

As the evening wears on everyone is poised waiting. When will the first rains come? When will the first lightening fizzle? The first clap of thunder open proceedings? Already a rebel wind is blowing through, bending back trees and clearing the streets of all light litter. Todays news rolls by like tumbleweed. The more daring front pages throw themselves open and cling to trees and car windscreens. Before going the way of history they scream their headlines one last time: 'London to be hit by biggest storm ever!' 'Winthrope seals deal with the Devil' 'Is this the end?'

Inside the apartment a terrible gloom all of its own has settled. Even with one's eyes closed you can still feel the strange atmosphere. It's like that moment, just before retiring to bed, when you flick the TV off but can still sense the strange frequencies and static, along with a depressing, empty feel to the night. But in here, it's not just the storm which makes the atmosphere so foreboding, there are other things in play.


John is ill. And dangerous. We know that. But this day, just as the light fell, something other came from him. Something perplexing and terrifying and just plain odd. It was his shadow, something very weird about it, but something which at first I couldn't quite figure.

Then I realized what it was: that no matter from what direction the light comes from, John's shadow always precedes him. And even if there is no light at all, his shadow remains, jutting out in front like an extension of his body.

Now, whenever he drives in close to hiss a threat, his darkness arrives first. It creeps up over my feet then engulfs me entirely. “Not.long.now.tristy!” he will say. Then he slowly reverses and smiles as his shadow retreats with him, revealing me and my face which is shot through with fear. And then he laughs and God only knows whose hand controls him now...


  1. Aleister Lee DeVille said...
    I think this Winthrope character is a pussy cat,
    it's this god fellow you need to worry about.

  2. Oh Dusty, you've picked a bad choice of enemy there. D'you what Winthrope does to people like you? Also she'll probbly be furious that you seem to think her and God are two different people...

    If I was you I'd try to get myself into one of those great Witness Protection Programs you have over there... and quickly. X

  3. Oh poor deluded Tristy and Dusty.

    Have you ever heard the maniacal laughter of a She-Goddess at the peak of her powers reverberating around a state of the art mansion equipped with the finest weaponry known to man?

    Because that's what I'm hearing now...

    I can also hear my nephew's wheelchair tremble in recognition of what this cackle portends.

    On a lighter note:

    If John the Fucktist has shadows going in any direction he wants then either HE has made that blasphemous pact with the devil you suggest I did ( The Devil and me? Why would Bill Gates do a deal with his local PC World?) OR he has a lighting man that Marlena Dietrich would come back to life and DIE FOR.


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