"You're a lemming, John," his father had told him. "You're rushing to your own destruction." But he bought the inn and the secret above him anyway; a secret he could not touch or see or hear. He bought the inn knowing it would destroy him, but as he came near to madness he began to realise that the thing upstairs was growing into a knife pointed at the belly of civilisation. He did nothing as he felt the knife pushing through him, skewering him as the first victim of a new invasion. He did nothing. But how can you get away from the edge when you know you must? Or does something push you on, closer, closer?
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