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Jason's House

Before long, you are exhausted by the pace and have to stop for a minute. Jason is irritated. "We have to hurry! What's wrong with you?"

Trying to remain polite, you explain that as a human being, you cannot walk more than ten miles an hour.

Jason's face clouds, and he apologizes. "I'm sorry," he says. "I've never known a real human being before. Do try to keep up, though. My brother gets home at five o'clock."

You decide not to ask about his brother and force yourself up. About ten minutes later, you reach a large white house at the edge of a wood. "Here we are," Jason tells you, and he turns toward what you suppose to be the back door. You follow.

"Close the door behind you," Jason instructs. He has loosened his collar and already is wrenching off a shoe. By the time the door clicks shut, he is barely recognizable as human . . . which, of course, he isn't.

"This way," Jason grunts, gesturing down a corridor. "My room is upstairs on the far left."


Written by Joey Liverwurst (edited by phaedrus)

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