Lives in a little house, in a small town, in the middle of nowhere.
At the centre of time: where it is the safest place in the world.
I should take a moment here and introduce myself as narrator of this story and take the focus from its current location and shift it a little. You see, I am writing this from a comfortable future and not only have memory and timeline issues but also benefit from the added bonus of removing associated trauma from my head with each victorious completion of a chapter, thus removing my associated limbic response and fundamentally altering the, already shoddy, memory, allowing me the blessed peace of having that particular incident in my life finally stored properly and no longer haunting me with flashbacks or intrusive interruptions to what should be (but isn’t ) regular cognitive function.
”Hello,” said the demon affably, “I will be your curse for this evenings main course.” “What,” I stammered, quick on the uptake. “I am quite sure I ordered all my wishes granted with a side order of affluenza,” I finished, trying to hide from the demon behind my napkin.
Why is May 16 such an important date to remember? Because that is precisely the day that the world ends. Such is life. It will begin with omens and portents such as Shiva, Goddess of Death turning her starry gaze earthwards from the heavens and gnashing her teeth. This event will occur earlier on April 21 because I have calculated, quantumly, that Shivas Avatar is my ex wife who shares her birthday with Hitler on the 21st day of April making it a pretty shoddy day overall and perfect for some portenshish omens, not to mention making a decent pre omen in advance of the total annilation of man on May 16, of next year.