While walking the dog last night, I met the Son of God. No, really. Note my use of capital letters. He said that he was the one that everyone’s been looking for and that I could tell it was true because my dog allowed herself to be stroked by him.
“Trust the animals,” he said. “They know.”
He was interesting, but terrifying, which is why the photo is blurred. It was late and it was just the three of us, down under London Bridge, and I realised I had some urgent dog-walking business to attend to immediately and had to excuse myself. He was just getting started on how to take souls. I had questions, but what’s the point in getting answers if you end up getting stabbed in the process?
Our walk then took us to the Tate Modern, where we could hear invisible rats running amid the up-lit trees, Borough Market, silent and gated and stinking, and Southwark Cathedral, existing as if in another time altogether.
The Tower of London, four police officers, two police cars, a police van and one kid with a rucksack. The kid’s body language was saying: “Forsooth, why hast thou interrupted my midnight run?” And: “Rucksack? What rucksack?”
Finally, about 5 mins from home, I completed the underlying mission of the walk. I found the solution to the next chapter of my novel. After a mind-clearing walk, I decided to turn a scene that wasn’t working upside down. It worked in my head and I hurried home to try it out.
I wrote the first draft this morning. It works fine, better than scene I had planned.
Thank you Pie.
53ish more chapters to go ...
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