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the wrong path on Sunday

Woke up to a faint light outside the window with a ringing, buzzing sound in my ears, and a powerful urge to go outside. Slowly the buzzing resolved into music, very faint, pipes and singing ... or was it church music? I looked at the time, 8.49, probably not, but then what? Odd. Maybe if I went outside I'd hear more clearly. I looked at the weather, grey, rain. (You could wear a coat) Odd. As I raised my head, the music faded, as I dropped it back to the pillow, it returned. (Is it bells or voices, pipes or strings?)I looked across at Damian, on the other bed. In the dim room, his body had been changed by the duvet into something ghastly and lumpen with huge reptilian legs. (Go outside, outside) I turned my back on the window. Yeah, right. I grew up in the countryside, and know all about taking the wrong path to church. The music grew louder, more distinct. Go away. In god's name. (You don't believe in god) Damn it. I wish I hadn't lost my earrings. Go away, go away, go away.