Sometimes it was the present, something just about to happen. As it was happening. Definitely before there was any way for it to have gotten there 'normally'.
[ She tilts to one side. ]
For instance: we found one jammed inside of the cavity cut into a corpse, beneath the heart. It was the first clue we got that the corpse was going to jump off of the slab and kill half the deputies in the sheriff's station.
Which happened about five seconds after I read it.
[He sits back with that because those are two very big revelations. Taking out his canteen from a pocket, he shakes it before downing the rest of what's inside, the coffee downed and set to the side.]
[ She can smell the difference between alcohol and water, but she wouldn't have begrudged him a drink. And there is a bottle of scotch on one side of the room. ]
Well, I met my grandfather, to start with. And his brother. I found out that they're a pair of old rock musicians from 70's who knew and understood everything that was going on.
[ She turns one hand and takes another coffee sip. ]
I met the writer of the pages, helped him get out of a tight spot, in fact. He was a pretty famous author, actually, missing for 13 years.
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Sometimes.
Sometimes it was the present, something just about to happen. As it was happening. Definitely before there was any way for it to have gotten there 'normally'.
[ She tilts to one side. ]
For instance: we found one jammed inside of the cavity cut into a corpse, beneath the heart. It was the first clue we got that the corpse was going to jump off of the slab and kill half the deputies in the sheriff's station.
Which happened about five seconds after I read it.
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[He sits back with that because those are two very big revelations. Taking out his canteen from a pocket, he shakes it before downing the rest of what's inside, the coffee downed and set to the side.]
That's fucked up.
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[ She can smell the difference between alcohol and water, but she wouldn't have begrudged him a drink. And there is a bottle of scotch on one side of the room. ]
It only got weirder from there.
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How weird?
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[ She turns one hand and takes another coffee sip. ]
I met the writer of the pages, helped him get out of a tight spot, in fact. He was a pretty famous author, actually, missing for 13 years.
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Did he do the same thing? See through the changes?
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He wrote the story. Or he tried to.
And apparently, he'd been trying for a long time.
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Now you've lost me.
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But his 'story', the words on the page, affected reality.
It wasn't that the writer was seeing what would happen.
The writer's story is what made it happen.
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Alright.