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milliways_bar2006-01-26 09:36 am
milkbonesoldier.livejournal.com) wrote in milliways_bar2006-01-26 09:36 am
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Last night was unsettling, to put it mildly. After the lengthy conversation with the weirdly intense fellow- Preston- Wells had returned the man's coat and got up to try the door.
It is never good when a door opens onto a frozen, unmoving panorama. It is even worse when you know, you know, that two seconds after the scene starts moving again, your part in anything to do with it is over forever. So Wells shut the door last night and looked for one of the rat things, reckoning that it might be able to recommend something strong enough to wipe that memory- and others, for that matter- out of his mind for a while.
It didn't, not really. First of all, the rat didn't speak English, which he hadn't reckoned on. But second of all, after he'd tried to explain what he was after, it had dashed off towards the Bar and returned with a key and a change of clothes.
Wells slept like the dead last night, if the dead can be said to have nightmares. Now he's awake, and he's got himself sausage- good, reassuring burnt stuff, none of that rubbish you get in the frozen-food cases at Tesco's- and a mug of strong black coffee.
Whatever this place ultimately is, whyever he's here, it's better than what's on the other side of the front door.
It is never good when a door opens onto a frozen, unmoving panorama. It is even worse when you know, you know, that two seconds after the scene starts moving again, your part in anything to do with it is over forever. So Wells shut the door last night and looked for one of the rat things, reckoning that it might be able to recommend something strong enough to wipe that memory- and others, for that matter- out of his mind for a while.
It didn't, not really. First of all, the rat didn't speak English, which he hadn't reckoned on. But second of all, after he'd tried to explain what he was after, it had dashed off towards the Bar and returned with a key and a change of clothes.
Wells slept like the dead last night, if the dead can be said to have nightmares. Now he's awake, and he's got himself sausage- good, reassuring burnt stuff, none of that rubbish you get in the frozen-food cases at Tesco's- and a mug of strong black coffee.
Whatever this place ultimately is, whyever he's here, it's better than what's on the other side of the front door.