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Come, wipe away the encrustations of sleep, and peer through sore and bleary eyes to share in Mark Hillier’s nocturnal visions; bear witness to that which his wife will not believe. The sweat of deep summer night’s fevered breath lent an unseasonal chill.
Mark should be happy, what with a promotion and impending fatherhood in the offing, but instead he is increasingly troubled by what is beamed into his home, courtesy of his portable television set, on a succession of enervating hot summer nights. The images that he witnesses, and the actions that they portray, strike at the very root of his sense of who he is. He may be left perplexed and confused, yet that irritant of a colleague of his – Mike Pearce – seems to know something that he doesn’t. Could there be a hint of the supernatural in the mix, and if so, what, if anything, does Pearce have to do with it, and what does it mean for his future?
A wry mystery novelette, just over 7,500 words in length. The second in a series of West Country Tales.
