Mog: A New Direction

"Come, Mog, you must feel something for me. I have made you immortal."

"No!" I cried. "All I feel is disgust! How can you live with yourself? It may be impossible for you to change the fact that you have powers beyond human understanding but to love another man?! It is unacceptable and wrong."

The boy looked pleading - you could not call him a man, really: scruffy brown hair, wide and vulnerable brown eyes, and those boyish features on his face - you would not think him older than 16. For what was he pleading? My love. Me another man and he wanted my love. I think I had given him enough by telling no one of his secret. But no, he had to use his other secret - his supernatural powers - to try to make me admire him. It was a gross perversion of Nature that he, this 'warlock' as he named himself, should be in love with me, a middle class and somewhat respected gentleman.  

"Morgan, could you truly break my heart?"

"Yes," I said with certainty. "It is the only way for you to be saved from yourself."

"Come, now, you do not believe that - you cannot believe that."

"I do," I said stubbornly. "I do and I ever shall."

"I will not cease trying," the boy warned.

"That shall not sway me either."

"You are so cold," he said, almost wonderingly.

"No. If anything I am kind for doing this to you."

"No one is kind for doing this to anyone," he declared.

I rolled my eyes and walked away.

"You will see how I loved you one day. You will remember this day - remember me - and wish you had been kinder. No one will ever love you like this again, Mog."

I ignored him and continued walking.

"I'm a blessing in your life!" the boy shouted.

'Disgusting creature,' I thought.


I woke up annoyed. It was enough being immortal without having to suffer a recurring nightmare of the one who had brought it about. I looked across the room at the packed trunk and remembered my resolution to 'get away' as they had come to say. I took a shower before dressing in a black blazer, white shirt, black trousers, green tie and grey socks. I regarded myself in the mirror. My hair was scruffy from sleeping restlessly and I combed it into a somewhat more presentable style.

'I should have it cut soon,' I thought, smiling wryly at the reaction its current length would have produced in my mother and older sister. Even when it had looked neat they had said he reminded them of a crow, dark and sinister, watching from the shadows... Bronty would have made a good poet. And she would love women's liberty today. Well, perhaps not some forms of their display of their liberty...

I breakfasted upon a bowl of cereal before collecting my trunk and briefcase. I checked that there was a packet of mints, a couple of pens and my wallet in my pockets,  a book of crossword puzzles in my briefcase and a watch about my wrist; I verified that all the windows were locked, lights and switches on plug sockets were turned off and that everything valuable was hidden away, and left the apartment.


I was the only one at the bus stop that morning. I suppose I looked rather like a businessman (except for the trunk) in my odd style of dress, but these were the days where you could do anything you liked - including be homosexual as was the term now given to people like Russell, the warlock who had made me immortal. I waited patiently, ignoring all sighs and sounds around me, instead focusing on my dream of a new life which hopefully excluded the nightmares. The bus trundled into sight and stopped before me. I boarded, paying my extortionate fare of £1.60, and sat in the right-hand corner of the back seat, at the other side of which sat a young lady with slightly tanned skin, short black hair that my mother would have screamed at on a girl, and black eye-liner which gave her eyes something of a cat-like quality.

"Hi," she called to me.

"Hi," I said, nodding and pulling my crossword book from my briefcase.

"Going anywhere interesting?" she asked, nodding to the trunk at my feet.

"Somewhere far away," I said vaguely, a hint of annoyance entering my tone at being kept from my crossword.

The woman noticed and, looking slightly put out, looked out of her window, not saying another word to me.

Silence.Good. I opened the crossword book and proceeded to work through the last one I had made a start on.

'Let's hope no one comes to sit next to me,' I thought to myself. 

The End

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