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Script: Jason Luke Grainger. Director and photographer: Jason Luke Grainger Actors: Candy the rat dog; Mother 'mother' Grainger. Special Cameo appearences: My foot. July 17th: Judgement Day. Some time after noon. Our expedition had made it safely through the barricades, Peacock's knowledge of the deepest intricacies of the door's secrets allowing us egress through that most enigmatic of puzzles. It was a small triumph after the horrors our planning could not foresee but which we had nontheless had to face; our resources were low, several good men lay dead, but our spirits were heightened by the taste of fresh air wafting over from the cul-de-sac's carpark. The brilliance of the afternoon sun enriched us, filled us with a hope long forgotten after many months of arduous journey to find the camera in the mess on the table. We drank it in heartily, knowing our quest was close to its end. Jones gasped, clutching at my arm and gesticulating wildly: it was then that we realised how close to our end we were.  Candy! That damned bodyguard of mother sprawled languidly, seemingly unaware of our approach. Her panting was expected, it had been but a bare year since her fateful battle with destiny.  Suddenly, as if the Sun itself had whispered of our approach into her delightfully adorable ears, Candy looked about herself, alert. Her cry rang out, renting the very air with a single haunting note which broke the will of Caruthers, who ran screaming from that dreaded, dark place. I knew now that I would have to do this alone, our approach, otherwise, would be instantly known to this Heliosean monster.  I crept closer from my high vantage point of five foot six. It was then I knew the folly of this entire expedition: instantly she was aware, her terrible thunderous cry pinning me with fright as she approached to claim her prize. I commended my soul to God and to Britain as her loping gait carried her effortfully towards me.  And then she was there, clawing, licking. I limply tried to ward her off with my hands, sheer terror and laziness rooting me to the doorstep. I lost track of my surroundings, not knowing whence my party had gone. Candy's assault continued, for I know not how long.  She scrambled for purchase, easily pinning me to the ground under her fearsome weight. I do not rightly know what it is to swoon, but I was only aware of myself what must have been minutes later, a deep, throbbing blackness replacing my memory of Candy leaving me, broken on that warm cement. I thanked whatever miracle had saved me from a fate most gruesome, forgiving my fellow travellers for leaving me, for surely I should be dead. I was alone, and could scarce return home without the provisions my friends had taken -- for they were friends, after what we had done for each other. It was then I made my choice.  The attack had seemingly sapped Candy's strength and she laid there, finished. Remembering the ill-fated initial approach, I was cautious, but found, thankfully, that there was no need. Providence must surely have led me here, have driven her off and left her limp before my hands. I struck.  Her mouth hung open, her tongue limp. I thought then that my task was complete, and though I would die on this blasted green wasteland, I had rid the world of an evil most despicable. How wrong I was.  The assault began anew! My wits were the only defense I had now. I moved quickly, settling her into a trance with methods learned from Indian fakirs.  It worked! I thanked my lucky stars for pseudoscience's efficacy, glad I had abandoned the Western world with its logic and reasoning; its laxatives and vaccines. Carefully, with the understanding that a false move could break the hypnosis which is really real I swear, I led her to a basin of purest liquid.  The raging waters threatened to dash us both against the walls of the lake. I refused to be drawn under until I saw with my very eyes that she had been destroyed, but its sucking waters lapped over my head and I knew no more. Of the fate of Candy, I can not say, and I fear I may yet die on this blasted grassy garden without accomplishing anything. And yet I am proud: proud of facing that damnable doggy. ...?! |
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