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I had to find out if they would see me -- the old me -- or whether, when they came to their front door to respond to the doorbell, they'd think I was a young man selling magazine subscriptions, or perhaps advocating Mormonism, door-to-door.What, exactly, was my business, Ellie had wanted to know. "I'm an... investor," I told her.That sounded silly, I knew. A 26-year-old "investor" who had time to house-sit for his elderly grandfather in a small town, miles from nowhere. I didn't look, or act,. "When she woke she pondered these stern words and the awful warning she had been given. The Fairy spirit had the power to make good her threat - she was all too well aware of that after yesterday! Even so, she could, at least partially, diminish the power that the unseen spirit world had over her with the help of the animal world. Despite this, she hesitated to provoke their anger again, for she could not bear the thought of being maimed and scarred for life. Or could she bear it, she. She was a passionate woman who had always enjoyed sex, but over the years, the couple’s love-life had tailed off to a depressing degree. Now, she was lucky if they were intimate once a month, and even then, it was all too brief and she got the feeling he was doing her a favour by taking time out from more important pursuits.HIM doing HER a favour? It should be the other way around! She was no longer the young woman he’d married, but she was still gorgeous, and in perfect physical shape. She. Slavery. Treating their fellow man like property no better than furniture. Raping, pillaging, and burning innocent towns. Did God drop these creatures on their heads or did some wiring get crossed in their fragile simple brains? Still Humans worshiped the art of killing and death. What’s so poetic about men bleeding out and soiling themselves? What’s so musical about people crying out for their mothers or a merciful deity as their guts spilled onto the ground, soaking it with their filthy.
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