Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Dead Rite chapter 153.02

“Of course. It's a stupid question and you're reaching for the wind by even asking. If it's real, continue to enjoy it as much as you do. If it's a product of your fevered imagination as your brain slowly shuts off in its last few moments of oxygen starvation during a gas leak at those awful premises you used to use as an antique shop, you might as well enjoy it.”

“Are you saying I'm dying?”

“What I'm saying, old son, is that you should embrace life as you find it. Joan d'Arc was repudiated as being delusional but it didn't stop her raising an army to attack England, did it?”

“I suppose not.”

“Well then.” Jasfoup opened the van door and flowed out onto the pavement. In the morning sunshine he looked more real than ever, a debonaire business man in a well-tailored Italian suit, though he cast a rather sinister shadow, one they still showed his wings and, when he turned to the side, his tail.

Harold pointed at the pavement. “I've never noticed your shadow before.”

Jasfoup looked down. “It's because you're thinking about the nature of reality. You've seen my shadow hundreds of times but your brain generally filters out the extraneous details you can't cope with. Today it's having a hard time coping and besides, I'm old.”


“You must have heard the saying. 'Old sins cast long shadows.'”

“Wasn't that a Hitchcock quotation?”

“Quite possibly. What an obnoxious man. I loved him.”

They walked up the short path to number fifteen in quiet contemplation. Harold admired the row of fading daffodils and cheerful red tulips. “Do you want to knock or shall I?”

“Oh, May I? It's my favourite part.”

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