Flux

breeze penetrated the threshold. In total darkness, Iain felt his way along the wall, following the sound. Progress was slow and Iain, afraid of stumbling and breaking a leg, made his way along what he could only assume was a long passageway. The cool stone beneath his fingertips yielded no gaps to indicate more corridors branching off to the side. He almost fell when one of his foot-falls connected with nothing but air beneath his feet, but he managed to regain his balance. Feeling about with a foot, Iain discovered he was standing at the top of some steps. Gingerly making his way downwards, a faint glow started to show itself up ahead. The cries increased in volume with every step forward.
    Before long there was enough ambient light to see that the passage opened out into a large chamber. Torches blazed in sconces on the wall. The chamber was empty and bare and the only feature was a doorway on the opposite wall, much like the one he was standing in. Again, hieroglyphs decorated the lintel. Certain the cries came from the room just beyond, he carried on forward, quickening his step now he could see.
    A scuffing sound, mingled with the noise of the child made him stiffen and cock his head to one side, listening. Iain didn’t have to wait more than a couple of seconds to discover the source of the new sound to be a living gargoyle, similar to the one from the church but much larger. Almost as big as a man and powerfully built, it slunk from the doorway to block his path. On all fours, like a dog, the creature sat back on its haunches, looking Iain in the eye, staring him down. Its eyes glowed red, tiny black slits showed its pupils, its mouth full of needle sharp, saliva covered teeth. Two large curved and wickedly pointed ones protruded from its lower jaw, coming up over the top lip of the beast.
    It seemed an eternity as they stood, man and beast, one frozen with fear, the other sizing him up for the kill. Then it pounced. Instinctively raising his hands to cover his face, Iain curled into a ball so as to present as small a target as possible, tensing against the inevitable onslaught.

Chapter Twenty-Eight
    Outpatient

    “Wake up shit face.” Bert sat on the end of the bed, as usual surrounded by a tangible stink, grinning as if he knew of Iain’s dream. “You have a busy day today.”
    Iain gasped awake, clutching the sheets, still half expecting to be torn apart, his nightmare slow to leave him. “Eh??” he mumbled, unfazed by Bert’s presence.
    “You’re going to see the shrink. Or had you forgotten?”
    Iain had forgotten. He groaned; “I’d better make myself presentable then.” Not looking in the least forward to his outpatient’s appointment, he groaned once again, drawing back the covers and rising from bed.
    The water came out cold from the shower at first, making him squeal. Then it turned blistering hot so Iain had to stand outside the jet until it settled at a comfortable temperature. It felt good to be caressed by the shower and memories of nightmares soon began to dissolve. That was until from somewhere unseen in the bathroom, on the other side of the shower curtain, the sounds and stench of defecation hit him hard. “For fuck’s sake: Do you have to do that while I’m showering?”
    From elsewhere in the bathroom, Bert chuckled.
    When Iain finished his shower, which was somewhat shorter in length than he’d hoped, he drew back the curtain to find Bert still sitting on the pan.
    “Oh please, do you mind?” not wanting the old man to see him naked.
    “Ha ha, I’ve seen it all before you foolish boy. Now come along, we have somewhere to be.”
    “We?” Iain hadn’t considered the old man coming along to visit the doctor.
    “Of course.”
    “I’m not sure that’d be a good idea,” he started to protest.
    “Of course it is,” Bert started. “See it as moral support.”
    Iain’s shoulders sagged, knowing the kind of support Bert had to offer was of a nature he could well do without.
    Once dressed and out of the house, the pair walked together to the bus stop. On the way, they passed a smattering of other ghosts, all of which seemed to shy away from the old man as if frightened or intimidated by him. Iain noticed one of them glance in their direction. With a snarl, transforming his face to reveal rows of sharp pointed teeth, Bert dismissed the spirit, causing it to cower and look the other way. Iain was minded to ask about the apparent control over the ghosts but something