This is Halloween.

I hate this time of year.

For one, it's americanised bullshit. Trick or treat and the like.

Secondly, my name doesn't lend itself to the season. Samuel Haine. Samhain. Never used to be a problem, now with the internet people just fucking know.

I carve a pumpkin or two. Just for fun. My brother always makes the same old "Sweeney Todd" joke - "At last, my arm is complete again!" - Lucky it hasn't always been like that. Johnny fucking Depp. Tim fucking Burton.

That's another thing. "Nightmare before christmas". Why it's never shown on Halloween I'll never know. Usually on at about 2am on ITV at new years! Neither Halloween or Christmas!

Anyway, pumpkins. I love making these artsy-fartsy style pumpkins. I did one with roman columns all around it one year. Won a prize for it - book voucher, but still. It's either that or really fucked up stuff. The bro usually ends up attempting to carve a vagina on his ones but either chickens out or fucks it up.

Thing I like about Halloween is the fact you can scare people and they won't care, or try to attack you. Not like any other time of the year.

I can go out in bloody overalls and brandish a hatchet - and people won't give a shit. No matter what I've done or intend to do.

Be a smashing night for a murder.

Cliched. But smashing nonetheless.

Sometimes I just sit in the road and act like a psychopath. If anyone comes close, I jump up and scream like a madman, waving a weapon around before moving on to the next road.

That can go wrong of course. Like the time the car didn't stop. Nothing serious, just a bitch of a bruise on my side for about 2 weeks.

Something I'd like to do is just go and sit in a graveyard. On Hallow's eve of course. See how many little gothy chicks I can see and subsequentially scare. Last year, I went into one, just passed through. There were a group of goths, none over the age of 14. Lot of girls, about 60/40 in the group. They were stood around chanting and laughing, trying to raise the dead or summon a demon.

I had to interject.

Just set them straight. The spell the lead boy had printed off of the net - See what I said about the internet? - was bogus. Just theatrics. I told them of the Baccae, the Hecate and of the Pandem. The latter are a small spanish sect of satanists, they think the rock of Gibratar is the entrance to Pandemonium, the capital city of hell.

I told them to try the Baccae. Dismemberment, rape and the sheer release of restraint. Just get fucking filthy. The lead guy tryed to shoo me away. Seriously. Waving his hands and everything. So I pushed him down the hill. He got knocked out. So I took control.

Those kids were energetic. Loved the process of the Baccae... But couldn't take the mess. Vomiting is good for the worship though. I'll always remember those girls...

The results were... Unexpected.

They all later died of massive wounds... Hm.

That's why I want to go all night.

And the night is young.

Making up for lost time. Sinner 66 heads for home.

This place never changes.

Been here all my life. Nothing has ever changed.

No new shops, banks, cafes or even new machines in the arcade.

And nothing has ever shut either.

Everyone just seems to get along fine.

I can't deny that they might be going through the motions.

But then, I wouldn't know if they'd ever haven't, if you see what I mean.

I need to get out of here.

"Harman", I say to myself, "You need to get out of this hole before the walls fall in and you're running the Texmax station.".

...

Then again. Weird things happen here. And I'm the only one who notices.

Rats stand upright and talk in the alleyways. They talk like we do, about inconsequential things, to them at least. Pleasentries and small talk. "How's the wife, Stephen?", "Fine, Morris. How's Hattie and the kids?". I think I must be going insane.

No other animals do this, Just the rats.

The cats just stare. Or sleep. When they stare, they look at your soul. They don't judge, I think. Feel. They just look. Some walk away, some nuzzle your leg, some hiss and spit. There's no colour or breed to it. Everyone's an individual.

The dogs are too dumb to do anything it seems. But at night... They act like wolves. Maybe that's just animal instinct magnified by 10 or... just the release from civility.

I could go on and on but... I met a man the other day.

Average height, build and features. Black and white barred shirt. Black trousers.

Wicked smile.

I'll always remember that smile. Like a shark, or... No, just a shark. only on half of his face. Sign of a guy who can't let his guard down, always prepared to do something.

I was in "Clifftop Cafe" - ironic for a place in the centre of town. It was moved at somepoint they say, but there are no records for any of it. Unsurprisingly.

He came and sat in the booth with me. My personal booth in the corner.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sitting here."

"I know, but you're not here, you're there. Don't be greedy, that'll kill ya."

He talked like a sleazebag. That's the only way I could describe it. A sleazebag. Grifter. Con-man.

"Well, do you mind finding somewhere else to sit?"

"Yes. I do mind. I'm looking for conversation as well as a meal, and frankly, you're the most interesting looking person in here."

Ballsy. And I can't exactly say "No, I'm boring.".

"Fine..."

"Thank you."

The waitress comes over. Kelly. I've had a crush on her since... I think since I was about 12. As puberty went into overdrive, I can't deny she'd become a focus for my lust. I remember having to eat a rotten apple for Max Derreckson, cause he had "Pictures" of her when she was about 15, like we were - She was in one of these slutty phases all girls go through. The stomach pump was worth it.

"Hey Harm."

"Kel', Hi."

"Usual?"

"Sure."

"Who's your friend?"

Million dollar question.

"I'm Jerry."

"Nice to meet you, Jerry. Any friend of Harmans is a friend of mine."

"The pleasure is ALL mine".

Sleaze. I'd been doing the whole slow and steady approach for years. Like I was going to let this nutbag get into her pants.

"He'll have a green tea."

"Okay, be right back!"

...

"Well, that was smooth, Harman."

"Is your name really Jerry?"

"God no. I'm pretty good at thinking on my feet."

"Then who are you?"

"An everyman."

"I doubt that."

"You're right. I'm nobody."

"...I want to doubt that."

"But you can't. You A) Don't know me. Literal nobody. And B) I'm not a local. I don't know what it is with you Brits and territory. If it isn't local, it isn't safe."

He was right. He wasn't local. I hadn't noticed his American accent. Could have been Canadian, I'm not one for voices.

"So what can I call you?"

"In front of her? Jerry. But call me Jay."

"Fine."

"What kind of name is 'Harman'?"

"My parents were vindictive, I think."

"Does it flow?"

"Flow?"

"With your second name?"

"Harman Croire."

"...That's... Wow."

"Go ahead, laugh. Everyone else did."

"I'm sure she didn't."

"Yep. For a little while."

"Speaking of."

Kel came over with a green tea and a black coffee for me.

"There we are guys, let me know of you want anything."

"Thanks, Kel'."

"Much obliged."

...

"So, you crushing on her as much as she is on you?"

"...What?"

"It's obvious, a blind man could see it. He could even hear the awkward silence between you."

"..."

He was right. About the awkward silence, the dead air. I didn't know she had a crush on me though. At the time.

"Want a couple of pointers?"

"What? For talking to her?"

"For scoring, genius. No need to be subtle around me."

"I don't need your help. I don't even know who the hell you are and why you're in a hole like this."

"Straight to the point. I like it."

He lay across the seat, putting his feet up.

"Look, Harmy-"

"Harman. Or Harm, if you really need to."

"Harman. The point is this. How long have you been waiting for her to fall into your arms?"

"Uh..."

"Right. See how this has never worked?"

"I guess."

"I want you to go over there and ask her to go to the movies with you."

"What?!"

"It never... Well, it does hurt to try, but you'll never get anything if you don't try."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained?"

"If you like."

"So you just want me to go over there and risk losing a great friend?"

"You didn't listen to me earlier. I said she's crushing on you too."

"How do you know?"

"I'm good with people. I just know. Call it body language or whatever, I just have the knack."

The knack. A word which inspires confidence in people. If someone says they have the knack for something, you trust them in that area. If they're a specialist, instead of a savant, you can trust them. One of the many things I learnt from "Jay".

"So, you go over there and ask her out. Don't stretch it out or you'll chicken out."

"You say this like I'm actually gonna do it."

"You are. You can't wait forever, and neither will she."

"...Alright. Say I do. What happens then?"

"That's all I can tell you. I'm not a mind reader."

"Then what are you?"

"A sin reader."

"What?!"

"You heard me. I can see sins on a person."

"Is that how you saw that she liked me?"

"No. I told you, I know people. Two different things."

"Oh."

...

"What do you see on me?"

"Knew that was coming."

"If you tell me, I'll go ask her out."

"Damn. That's shrewd. Alright."

"..."

"Sloth, lust, pride, greed. In that order."

"How am I-"

"You really can't argue this one."

"I'd say my lust is lower than my pride though."

"Well now it is, Mr. Humble."

"No wrath or envy?"

"You ever kill anyone?"

"No!"

"There we go then."

"Why can you see sins?"

"That's a whole different kettle of fish, my friend. You have a deal to fufill."

"...Fine."

He smiled as I got up. Big shiteating grin. Fucker. I was shitting butterflies. This was my holy grail. I was at the edge of the abyss of eternity. She turned to face me as I got up there.

"Hey, you done with the coffee?"

"Not yet. I have something I want to ask you."

"Shoot."

"..Uh..."

"What's wrong?"

"Bit of an upset stomach. It'll pass."

"Alright... If you're sure."

"Yeah... Hm... This'll seem odd, but-"

I looked back at Jay. He looked to be on the edge of his seat.

"Look. Do you... Maybe... Wanna go out with me some time?"

My heart stopped for a second, waiting for the reply.

"..Sure. When?"

I don't remember the rest of the conversation. Just bits. I said "Really?!" at one point. Jay clapped all the while. Kelly blushed a lot, and smiled.

I was happy.

Then came the realisation.

I had nothing else in my life apart from her.

It's sad. My holy grail was nothing more than an eggcup.

I went back to the booth, and downed the coffee in one long gulp.

"So, was it everything you dreamt of?"

"Yeah..."

"And no, right?"

"You found me for a reason, didn't you?"

"Yep. On behalf of my employer. You're perfectly suited to the job he wants me to offer you."

"And what's that? A sin reader?"

"No, though you'd be with one - Me, most likely."

"Then what would I be?"

"A consultant."

"In what field?"

"This one."

He pointed out of the window.

"The town?"

"Bingo."

"Why?"

"You can see things, right?"

He threw me a curveball. How did he know? I later found out. But at the time, I was like "What the fuck?!".

"Kinda."

"Good enough. Finish your coffe and we'll head to your place. The kit should have been delivered by now."

"What?"

"Drink up and say goodbye to your girlfriend."

I did and I did. The date went well. But we agreed we weren't ready for a relationship.

Told you this town never changes.

It doesn't. I have.

I work at the edge of insanity. At the edge of the Locus.

It may never change, but it's always never changing.

Order and chaos in balance.

But even then, it never changes.

Ink-cognito.

My life runs like a cartoon.

I get up, and an anvil falls on my head.

Take a step forward, and I hit a mousetrap.

Try to eat, the food is stolen by vermin in the walls.

I see the same old people on the street like characters in the background.

I hate it.

I used to love the boxed chaos.

Now it's just boring.

I hate never knowing what's coming. I want to live by a ritualistic schedule.

God knows I try doing that, but after step 1 we have to jump around on the page to even get out of the door in the morning.

Royal "we" of course.

I just want to be able to sleep without being woken up by something-or-other.

Nothing worth hanging myself over, you realise.

I just...

I don't want the rest of my life to be a bananna creme pie to the face.

"Pick up pie!"

*THWACK!*

...

Where did it all go wrong?

As a kid, it's not so noticable. You're a being of chaos - a cliche.

Incarnate.

But life gets boring.

Really boring.

Really quickly.

You go from pyjamas with the power rangers on them to sleeping nude because of your core body temperature.

It's the loss of innocence. The gain of experience. Blake had it pinned down.

But what is it that makes innocence a barrier for chaos?

Maybe I'll never know...

Maybe it's the rose tinted glasses of youth.

Maybe it's just how duller things get. Colour. Events. God knows christmas is never fun when you're an adult.

Or it could just be chaos itself.

Oroborous. Mobius loop. Unescapable.

We just have to put up with it.

I'll just have fun with it. Guess what's coming next.

...

Here comes the smiling sun.

I can't sleep very well anymore.

Journeyman.

In an instant.
I am there.
Everywhere.
Nowhere.
At least it's somewhere.

The Rhine.
I see her crying in the water.
I want to join her.
But I must keep walking.

Cairo.
I gaze into the eyes of a God.
Scarlet and dark.
Judged.
I walk away again.

London.
The old man wails in the city.
He has lost his children.
Lost them to the bombs.
On the hour.
I walk on.

Dublin.
Lost in the sea.
The sea of madness.
Eating my hands.
To avoid strangulation.
Walk!

Boston.
Tea floats.
Coffee sinks.
I go between the two.
To quickly escape.

Texas.
The chair is warm.
Comforting.
Energising.
I condone it.
Next man in.

The Wall.
Long and smokey.
The dragon of the earth.
Beheaded.
The country is blind.
I walk once more.

Darkness.
Cold.
Siberia.
I slow to a crawl.
Crawling.

Paris.
Bad memories.
Painted on the walls.
In the streets.
In red.
I head south.

Perth.
Forgotten often by me.
I sit a while and think of where to go next.
A piece of peace.
I decide.

Home.
It's where the heart is.
But mine is not.
Everywhere.
Nowhere.
I find it all over again each time.
And then I remember.

I left it with you.
Six feet under.
And the one place I dare not go.

The Rose in the Darkness.

My Queen?

Armin. Come, sit by me.

Why have you summoned me?

Sit. Please.

...

Armin, you know that my husband, the King, is away. Out of the country.

...Yes, my lady.

His annual sojourn. His pilgrimage to the Chapel of Signs.

Yes.

Do you know why he goes this year?

...He fears the Gaed. The warriors of the dawn.

Yes. But that isn't why he has gone.

Then why, my lady?

He fears I have a suitor.

...

Yes. He knows of our love. Our midnight passions.

Am I to die?

No. He does not yet know it is you. He suspects Abom, or Fortzheim.

But he will know?

The altar in the chapel will tell him. It is powerful magic. Ancient magic.

...We must flee.

Ridiculous.

My love?

I cannot be seen to abandon the King.

Then what are we to do?

We? It is you he will kill. Murder.

Demidra, my love. I say "We". I love you and you love me, all we experience shall be together. I won't leave you to the wolves and the guard. If you refuse to go, I must fight too.

You'll be killed. Again, ridiculous. The King has Harmain's magiks around his person - No harm can befall him.

...

There is another course of action.

I must know it, if we are to survive, and love forever more.

One magik dominates the other, you know this. The strong consumes the weak.

You suggest... A dark spell?

No. Just... stronger magik. I know of a spell. A spell, born from love, passion and the earth itself.

...What must be done?

From the garden, pluck a rose, in full bloom, with odd petals. This ancient charm will need both of our bloodlines to empower it.

Blood magik?!

Yes... Ancient, but not evil. Go now, I must prepare the symbols.

...As you wish, my love.

...

...

...

Armin. The rose?

Seventeen petals - the most I could find to hand.

Come.

My love! You are... Nude.

As you should be. Come and step into the circle.

...

Good. Now, the rose.

Here.

I need your hand as well. Push it into mine, the rose sealing our love.

...Aah. It-

Hush. I know, but it won't hurt for long.

...

Now, I need to concentrate. A'ru, Er'rion A'ru. B'ieth An Luscit Sie. Our love, never withers. I command, I know, I feel. Now, Armin - speak your wish!

...I wish to be your love, the King be damned.

And I, I wish for the power to rule by your side forever!

My love?!

Now! Take me upon this altar! Seal out love in blood and fire!

...Yes! My love, yes!

This rose... Between our bodies! An Luscit Sie, Norn Fog I'ana!

It hurts! I love you!

An I'ana! Fog Dower Bon A'ru! My love! My body! My sweat!

Aaahn!

Yiagh!

*SSHIAAAAA...*

Ten years later.

My love?

...Armin.

My queen, It is Viola.

I'm sorry... Viola, your father came to me in a dream.

Your mind wanders, Mother. He is-

I know. What business have you brought me?

The Harrin wish for passage through the city.

Of course.

And the Gaed festival draws close.

Hm. I know...

Mother?

Just a memory, my dear. 

...

With all the power in the world. I couldn't save him.

Mother...

Magiks defeat Magiks. Your father... never saw him coming.

I know. We all miss him.

Yet you never shed a tear. The sign of a ruler.

Mother, please.

...With all the power we had... I had. I couldn't save him from...

The assassin, yes...

...Viola. You are a woman now. You deserve the truth.

...

Your father. Armin the Wise. Unifier of the tribes, slayer of the dragons, and more powerful beyond his years. He had enemies.

Obviously, Mother. The Gaed were at the beginnin-

No. Older enemies. With passion and hatred in their cold veins.

...You know who killed him.

...Yes. Rosem.

Who is Rosem?

...The King. Before your father.

You said he died long ago.

Yes... He did. But the strong consume the weak... And there is a price for all magiks done in spite... He rose from the grave, powered by... the unholy.

His hatred.

Yes. The strongest weapon on this earth. Other than love. 

Setting the Woods on Fire.

She's late. Again.

What's the point in having a day out if she's not gonna bother being on time?!

Is it too much to ask, Lord?

Maybe I'm over-reacting... She's ALWAYS late, so I should really lower my expectations in that regard.

In that regard meaning only to that portion of her character.

Now I'm just over-thinking things.

...

Maybe she made other plans.

It's not beyond her to do that. I'm not the most exciting company, I wouldn't blame her.

I hope she isn't... No. She's not like that.

She could be.

She could be and I just don't know about it.

For all I know, as I sit here, she's out there with some nameless hunk, rubbing against him in a club.

...At 2 in the afternoon? 

Hm.

...She could be at the beach. With whole scores of sand covered, muscle-brained morons.

...In a bikini.

...

No! Stop that - Both of it! I don't need that image or that line of thinking.

She's just running late.

...

...

...

She could be hurt.

She could be lying at the side of the road, bleeding to death.

"I've got to get to him! I'm running late as it is!" - CRUNCH.

Limbs motionless.

Braindead.

Oh god...

Again, that has to just be a worst case scenario... I hope.

...

I hope she's worn that yellow dress. With that complexion and build, it just hangs on her so well.

It's also the one she wore in New York... Over the fans, like Marilyn Monroe...

Polka dots...

I didn't think... those things, were still made in polka dots.

I wonder if it was a matching set?

...

Jesus, I need to stop thinking about that! Last thing I need is a stiffy in public!

And then her coming up from behind, frightening me into turning round and BAM!

Erection.

It'd kill the whole mood of the conversation afterwards.

...

Or...

Maybe it'd... excite her.

We'd rush off to the Waterstones/Starbucks toilet and...

Make music together. Perfect harmony.

...

I think... I'd be happy, married to her.

Me, working 9-to-5 at the ...wherever does 9-to-5 in this day and age.

Her, working a half day, maybe a spot of painting, some cleaning...

And the kids. Victor and... She'd name the girl, I don't have a flair for girl's names.

We'd be happy...

I'd be in Heaven.

...

But then there's Hell.

Loveless marriage.

Gold-digger.

Bratty kids.

Working my fingers to the bone so she can sit on her fat arse all day...

...

I don't know why I bother...

She'll never be into me... So why do I try?

...

I have to try.

I've put too much into this wooing to give up now...

I need to ask her...

...

And she'll say no.

Cut your losses, Jimmy.

Go spend the money in your pocket on something selfish and needlessly violent.

I hear John Woo has a new film out...

...

10 seconds. I'll look for her.

If she isn't there, her loss. My gain.

I'll say I had something important thrown onto me at the last minute at work, she'll understand...

Okay. 10.

9.

8. Nothing so far.

7.

6.

5. No sign.

4.

3.

2.

1.

...

1 and a half...

...

Nothing.

I'm done.

"Jim?!"

"GAH!"

"Sorry, the meeting took a little longer than I expected."

"Oh, hey, no worries."

"And I've got to get back ASAP."

"...That's fine."

"Okay! Let's go get a coffee."

"Lead on, Macduff!"

...

Whipped. 

My Life in Fractures.

Nose - 5 years old.

I hit an incoming door. My uncle Mike was on the other side of it. He couldn't have seen it coming, he was in the habit of busting in on us with "Bravado".

I had to wear the mask for a while.

Left forearm, compound - 8 years old.

Fell out of a tree. I was down at the lake with my parents and some friends. Someone, I don't remember who, dared me to climb to the top of a tree over the lake, just drooping over it. My dad went nuts, I panicked, I hit the water badly.

In a cast for months. Pretty covered with ink by the end of it.

Left index and middle finger - 9 years old.

My sister shut these fingers in the car door. Old station wagon. It was an accident, I think - I don't remember. They were more worried about me having tetnus or blood poisoning from the rust on the car.

Strapped up pretty good.

Rebreak. Left Forearm - 14 years old.

Football injury. I was a running back. I got taken out by an opposing quarterback. I fell onto it normally, but it couldn't take it. I heard it go, and so did he. He went to the emergency room with me, my parents weren't there that day for the game. Darren became one of my best friends after that day.

Cast - Darren signed it first, then Cindy. Max came in a did barbed wire over the base, next to my elbow.

Right big toe - 19 years old.

Selling tacky shit door to door for Uncle Mike. Mormon took offence to my "patter", and slammed the door on me - my toe was just about over the line. Lucky me.

Kept off of my feet for a while.

Right leg - 23 years old.

Aspen. Snowboarding. A long fall into a tree and a snow pile. Hot chocolate. I write a fairly good story in the time I have off - Cindy says I have the knack for writing.

God knows how long I was bedridden.

Right wrist - 27 years old.

Fell from a ladder helping Darren and Marina decorate their baby's room.

Short cast. No room to sign.

Left Ankle - 34 years young. Today.

So here I sit. On a laptop. Funny story.

I got out of the SUV, dropping Frieda and Donny off at school. I get out and slip on the ice in the gutter. My ankle and foot somehow get caught in a storm drain. People try to pull me out, but that made the break worse. I wish the writer's guild had medical insurance.

Looks like I have plenty of time on my hands.

Maybe I'll write something.