andy cannon

Saturday arrived bright and cold beneath a sky washed pale blue by the night's rain. Christopher left the flat shortly after ten with a canvas shopping bag folded beneath one arm and a short list of errands in his coat pocket. Mrs Patel had asked him to collect a replacement order of coffee beans from one of the suppliers on the far side of town. The task carried him through the centre of Penmere and into the weekly market that occupied the square every weekend throughout the autumn.

Thank you!

In my efforts to wrestle my disjointed thoughts into a readable manuscript I usually forget that the readers are not privy to every crazy idea that pops into my head, and as a result, sequences that seem perfectly logical to me actually lack about 40% of the background structure and make about as much sense as a random page from Finnegan's Wake translated into Navajo.

Very astute observation. There is almost as much material that was relegated to the cutting room floor as actually made its way into this draft, including a couple of scenes with Christopher whining to Jamie about the unsettling man who is intruding in his life. I felt like those conversations reiterated what he had said in his internal monologues, so they were extraneous. I apologize that this pruning may have cut back some needed branches!

Thank you for the kind words!

Discovering that reality might not be all it's cracked up to be must be a terrifying moment.

### Chapter Six ####################################################################################################################################################### The lantern festival transformed the harbour every autumn. Strings of coloured lanterns hung between buildings and across the harbour road, their reflections trembling in the darkening water below. Food stalls lined the promenade beneath canvas awnings striped with rainwater and light. The smell of frying fish drifted

Right? It's a tough life with all the rain, but adding in ghostly cavalry could keep a guy awake at night.

Christopher is taking this much better than I would!

### Chapter Five ### Rain pressed softly against the corridor windows while Christopher crossed the upper floor carrying a stack of Year Eleven essays balanced against one hip and a takeaway cup of coffee in his other hand. The school had not fully woken yet. A few classroom lights glowed beneath closed doors farther along the corridor, and somewhere downstairs a photocopier whined into life. His shoes squeaked faintly against the polished floor. At first he barely noticed

Another perceptive question! This one is explained further on, so I will allow that to unfold in a timely manner.

That is a perceptive question that raises an issue I did not fully work out. My thought is that one of the unusually-oriented burial sites is Celyn's, and the Maelor arranged that so he could watch the Marcus Aemilianus depart from Britannia forever as a final "and the horse you rose in on". I would love to hear other theories!

### Chapter Four:########################################################################################################################################### Cloud cover still pressed low across the harbour when Christopher arrived with the Year Eleven history class just after midday. The storm had passed during the night, but the world it left behind looked waterlogged and raw. Wet stone reflected pale light beneath the quay railings while gulls circled overhead, shrieking into the wind.

Sadly, I am as confused as Christopher, LOL.

Christopher woke feeling as though he had not properly slept at all. Grey morning light pressed dimly through the curtains. Rain still tapped softly against the windows, though the storm had weakened sometime before dawn into a steady coastal drizzle. The radiator clicked unevenly beneath the window while somewhere downstairs the bakery ovens had already begun their daily thunder. Christopher stared at the ceiling for a long moment without moving. The dream itself was already dissolvin