The good doctor never left this place.

A little something from the book tonight:

There was a name for this place.  Most called it the Monochrome, and the only way for someone to get there was to saturate themselves with so much mediocrity that they eventually “Flickered” over from one side to the other.  The last time Donovan experienced the Flickering was on that subway platform a year ago, and it was there he’d made the exchange with Dullington.  It was there that he’d received his final warning.

He did not have time to ponder his return.  The tapping on the door stopped.  A moment later it slowly opened, and a dozen tiny, white figures marched into the room.  Dullington called them cretins, but to Donovan, they had always been the little white bastards.  Seeing them march across the floor and stand at attention before him made the reality of his predicament all the more real.

They snickered and pointed at him.  Here was the guy who earned his second chance and blew it.  Only, if his captors were to be believed, it would not be Dullington who would come to claim him this time.  No, it would it be someone else.  Someone in charge.

“Mr. Candle,” said a man, and a figure stepped entered from the gray shadows of the Laundromat beyond the room.  At first Donovan couldn’t make out him out, but as the figure came further into the dim light, so did his features.  Who he saw not only angered him, but frightened him.  The last time he’d seen this man was on that subway platform, and their meeting was not a pleasant one.  The time in between these meetings had not been kind to the man and, upon closer inspection, Donovan wasn’t sure “man” was an apt description anymore.

“You,” Donovan whispered.

Dr. Albert Sparrow looked down and grinned at his captive.


More soon.