Friday 8:52 pm, July 13, 2012

Darkness comes to London, and Lance Pilot sits hunched over in his Range Rover, chewing a beef sandwich like a hungry wolf, but with the manners of a rabid pig. Sauce dribbles down his double chin like lava as he wipes it away with his sleeve then laps it up. The slurping sound of an empty straw draws its last ounce of Coke as he searches the bottom for more. A belch and fart follows and sounds like a train conductor disconnecting boxcars.

Only one person has ever ridden in his car, Jason Von Twiddle, a jerk friend of his, everyone else rides in the trunk or is stuffed in it.

"Mum? I think I got another one. I'll pop him over for your morning tea as soon as I catch him. What? Damn it! It's Lance mom. Your son."

He tosses his mobile between the candy wrappers and chicken bones, and the other garbage piled on the passenger seat before farting again, leaning on one cheek. He closes his laptop after logging off the Scotland Yard website and leaves his car and walks towards a teen he has spotted in a nearby park.

"Hey kid, come here. Yes you. You trashed my flat yesterday. Stop! Stop yer running. I'll catch ya sooner or later you little wanker. Stop! Fucker. Shit."

Frustrated Lance stops his pursuit. He looks around then pulls his hoodie up and cap down then looks straight at the ground. Then hurries away in the opposite direction of the teen, mumbling to himself as he heads further up the lane in search of another youth. He knows exactly where all the cameras are and what to do to avoid being identified.

There are nearly two-million CCTV cameras in place around Britain. Every means of collecting data and tracking a person's movements is at the fingertips of authorities or whomever can get into its system.

It's all there for the picking in a big tangled mess. From government agencies to Facebook, Nanny-cams, credit cards, databases, smart-phones and so on.

Slowly it's crowding people into corners and watching over their every move. If you happen to sneeze it's probably seen or recorded by someone, or something.

With all this eye-in-the-sky surveillance, how then are two-hundred-sixty-thousand people able to disappear each year, just in Britain alone, without leaving so much as an electronic footprint? They either have a great hiding place or go missing by design or some unspeakable horror happens.

Many leave good homes, jobs, family and completely vanish at least for awhile. Most are found or return, but still about sixteen-thousand a year never do. How families live through those never ending moments when a clock's hands never move is impossible to imagine.

It's not like all these have gone missing in the Gobi Desert or some remote spot. What we have here is a populous city or country, with more ways of tracking a person than ever before in history. So why are more and more cases reported?

Scotland Yard has its hands full of missing people. Some just took a stroll, spent the night with a friend or left their wallet on the dashboard with the car running, while others last comments to a family member were, 'I'll be back in five minutes' which turns into forever.

And remember, once you leave home till the time you get back, 'smile, you're on Candid Camera.'


James is your average kid of fifteen, with school just a little above okay, but his home life is building on exceptional. Both parents are making good inroads into guiding him through his youthful years by allowing him to grow like a flower on his own, rather than pulling him by his petals in an effort to make him grow.

His mixture of friends is for the most part even balanced with just a few heading south. No harm no foul was his playful mannerism as it was his soccer ball that accidentally hit the Range Rover belonging to Lance Pilot.

His is one of the faces Lance remembered, but what Lance did not see, nor cared about, was James's non participation and rebuke of his fellow mates. They trashed Lance's flat turning it into a pigsty, after Lance purposely drove over their soccer ball.

James is off to the store this Friday night to pickup an item or two for his mom, whose time of the month was causing pain within her head and belly, it is a duty which he does with grace and respect.

He is nearly runny late for his meetup at ten-o'clock with his bowling team, which consists of a cousin, a friend and a girl that he giggles with and thinks is nice. So on this evening his bicycle flew extra fast up and down the hillside and through the alley towards the chemist's shop.

Lance spends the better part of an hour searching the neighborhood for James, before he spots him leaving his home.

Finding a vulnerable ambush spot Lance picks a low lying shrub, moving apart some branches with his cane, then crouches and waits for James to return, while humming to himself a mantra over and again.

Bitter tunes sung by his mom, who's breath blows like the wind, uprooting all dead matter in its path disrupting calm. "Veritas diaboli manet in aeternum."{Devil's truth remain eternally.}

"Ello James, looks like you been running a marathon."

"Ay-up Mr. Gordon, I'm bowling tonight and my mom needed me to pick this up before I go."

"Here's your change lad, say ello to yer mum and dad."

"See-ya Mr. Gordon."

On his way back his tires bounce onto cobblestone echoing through empty streets, and brick alleyways and open windows. Lance, what with the maze of twists and turns, finds James difficult to spot. Every now and then he catches a glimpse of him darting between the rows of houses.

Set on revenge Lance crouches low in the shadows, coiled and oozing evil with each slow calculated breath, even the darkness of a waning crescent moon cannot not conceal his contempt. A coldness sits about him wrapped in a blanket of amnesty giving him innocence of any and all wrongdoings, past, present and future.

James comes into view, his spirit races as fast as his athletic legs can pedal.

In an instant Lance's cane jams into the front spokes of James's bike, and in a flash he flew through the air in an isolated alleyway.

His thumb hits the ground first before his shoulder as he rolls several times more on the cobblestones. His crying groans are heard only by an elderly couple who open their door an inch or two.

Lance strolls over and spits on his shirt.

"Help me mister. Oh its you... It wasn't me mister who wrecked your flat. Please!"

"Stop your crying baby. I'll finish you right here if you don't shut up. Don't you squeal like a pig either!"

"Mister it wasn't me. To my mates it was just a joke. I'm sorry."

"Who cares? Moms hungry, and you will be breakfast."

"What? You're a nutter! Get away!"

The pain inflicted on the young man as he lay bleeding from both elbows became magnified as Lance kicks him in the groin twice, then lit a cigar and smiles walking about like a matador. James has never felt such pain.

Leaning close with cigar in mouth Pilot grabs James by the forearm then stokes the cigar till its tip glows red hot, brightening the darkness with each inhale, then moves its position towards the youths forehead.


Stepping quickly onto the scene the odd man known as Merlin G Wildhaber startles the cockroach Lance, as his aura of light becomes bright.

"What the hell? Piss off! Beat it old man!"

"As a matter of record, I'm about ready to."

Walking closer Merlin continues.

"Ah.... so the old hag's breath still carries on. I thought I smelled your evil being from afar." Merlin glides closer before continuing like David's thunderous challenge to Goliath.

"The bitterness that your soul lives on, sours your world, and will till the day that you die, which by the way, is coming soon. You are without backbone, a snake man and dark is your heart as no spades will dig your grave, but cool waters; will carry you to hell, so that you might find no peace. Ever!"

The delivery of words shot arrows through Lance, he approaches Merlin like a warrior.

A backlash response of foul words spat past Lance's tongue in rapid succession filling the nights calm; they stood face to face.

With a calm but stern voice Merlin adds more with merry eyes twinkling.

"Vipers such as yourself. Do your slithering elsewhere! Unless of course you care to deal with a person, such as myself! You see yourself as brave. There is not a brave bone to be found inside your being as you come from a long line of liars and cowards. What's wrong? Lost yer voice?"

Fear froze in the eyes and heart of a man that for years had bullied his way throughout life. Merlin was the tsunami and Lance a grain of sand.

"Who was it?" Asks Merlin.

"Who was what?" hissed the cottonmouth with venom oozing.

"The one that's made you so bitter! Your weak unknown father or was it your bitchy mother, Balocha, the Sea Hag?" Merlin's words drove a stake into Pilot's heart.

Lance leaps at Merlin swinging his cane with deadly force and with the rage of a maniac, but Merlin uses Lance's own movement and weight to firmly plant him on the alley floor.

"Which part of your heart do you want me to pull out?" Asks Merlin of the frozen ghoul who is now crawling away from his light.

Still grounded, Pilot's face nervously looks about, his embarrassed position lashes out.

"What you looking at fuckers?" He yells to the old couple looking on, they timidly closed their door.

"So you be the old Hag's' son. You seem a bit distracted. What's the matter? Can't beat up an old man? Maybe you should try again."

Lance stands with the legs of a nervous dog then hurls himself again, but this time Merlin glides him through the air like a missile head first into a garbage skip with history.

This is a very special trash receptacle that holds a weeks worth of nappies which use to be worn around the waist of Mrs Goofierut, an 87 year old vegetarian, whose worst problem these days seems to be that of holding herself before reaching the potty, and now this provides Lance with the instant reality and luxury, that he by the way so rightly deserves.

Being embedded in a pile of shit becomes his destiny. The smell is so stagnate and rotten that only rats and cockroaches cared to partake of its tidbits, ants were smarter and are content with their findings of discarded fish guts and kitty-litter.

A scream that nobody heard thunders through Pilot's brain.

Shaking himself free of the waste can, both he and his cowardly shadow head for the hills, tripping and stumbling into the darkness, screaming obscenities with white foaming spit dripping from his mouth. He stops and turns. "I'll get you old man!"

"I'll be looking forward to that day. See you soon! Say hello to the old hag. Tell her I'm the one who destroyed her ugly sister."

With that said, Merlin freezes Lance's movements walks over to him and places an object in his pocket saying, "vocatus atque non vocatus Deus aderit {called and even not called, God approaches"}." and then releases him as the creep runs full speed screaming his way out-of-sight.

Merlin's compassion turns to the injured James who was agonizing on the ground. "Here son let me give a look."

"Why did he do that? I didn't do anything to him!"

Bending, Merlin touches the boys arm and holds it still, comfort comes instantly throughout his body.

"What have you done sir? How did you..."

"I just listened to your heart. It appears that you have a kind one and you heal easy."

Standing James shakes the bad experience off as if it never happened and marvels at the nice stranger that came to his rescue.

"Who are you sir?"

"James, I'm just a friend that gave you a hand."

"You know me name?"

"It's stitched on you shirt."

Looking down James realizes the man is right.

"Oh I forgot about that. Me bowling shirt. My mum thought it would look nice."

"Well your mum is right and she has a fine lad to be proud of."

"Can you come home with me so I can tell my folks how you helped me."

"No, but thanks. Tell your folks what happened and have them contact a constable. You know where that man lives, right? Good."

"How did you do that? He just went, he just went sailing out there."

"Oh just parlor tricks and luck I suppose. Now you run along."

But sir, how can I thank you?"

"Lad. Have compassion as you run across life and when you see a person in need, stop and help. Be, and treat others in a just way. And just as you saw me, be especially wise around men such as the rat that ran away tonight. They are the weakest of all even though they act like a bully.

So if you want to thank me son, understand that sometimes your best friends you may meet only once, but the memories of that encounter will last a lifetime for you both. The ripple effect of good; would apply here my friend. Would you not agree?"

"Yes sir."

Parting handshakes send each in different directions.