he looks into the mirror the view obscured by the year of dirt and dust that has mixed with the rain to become a thin gruel spread across the window. He squints harder is it his imagination or is there someone back along the road following him .... the lights disappear and he breaths a sigh of relief .. this is London of course other people use the roads but still beads of uneasy sweat roll across his forehead and his mind replays the events ... those lights, they seemed to be blue ... he gulps his throat soo dry .. him ? here ? that can't be right thats impossible.
he looks again and the road is empty clean of all traffic he turns off down a side street and instantly his blood chills .. he's never been down here before this road .... there are no houses only trees, gnarled and bent with age the wind moving through the branches seemingly to make them alive, he looks back only the red of his lights illuminating a few yards back and then darkness. He accelerates he's got to get out of here he pushes his foot to the floor to find it is already there ... 'dam why did I buy a 1.6'
a bolt of lightning arches across the sky and illuminates a lone figure in the road, black and cowed holding a scythe his fingers beckoning toward him. A voice enters his head seemingly to come from all around sounding like a millennia of life's ... 'Erm ... I have come for you'
He slams his breaks on the car sliding to a halt in front of this apparition. He slowly raises his head dreading what he will see another streak of lightning sears across the sky to reveal nothing but an old uprooted tree. He looks across the road seeking an alternative a through the gloom can see a sign ' Welcome to Wales'
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