The Calming Influence

Mondays child was the content baby

Even before Lily became pregnant she knew exactly what she wanted. She knew how social media worked; how easy it was to become popular online; knew how to build a brand around herself; perfect an identity… lie and cheat basically. She was going to film everything in her life through hidden cameras in a way that had never been done before. She had spent so long analyzing the various narcissistic trends that flourished, peaked and died down and none of them had any stay of longevity. Brands troughed because no one understood themselves. That was where Lily was different. She didn’t know much in the world but she knew herself and to what lengths she would go to ensure her ongoing popularity. 

Her first video took the longest to prepare. It needed to be something special; a wow-factor. There were so many maternity videos that were contrived with no backstory, but she would adhere as close as she could to the maxims of naturality and inclusive footage. The first video spanned the initial nine months of her pregnancy. It started with her predatory stalking on various dating websites as she explained the type of man she was looking for: Geeky, enthusiastic, weak, pliant… They would obviously be very grateful for any attention and, if she played her cards right, then it would be like shooting nerds at a convention.

Initially her advances were spurned because she was too enthusiastic. She actually frightened off her potential suitors, mainly due to their lack of confidence; but she hit the jackpot with number four. She eventually shared everything about this man’s life in the video …. She played him along perfectly; they slept together on the first date and he was so grateful. He kept saying how amazing everything was and how much of an angel she was. He was insistent on protection and always wore a condom. She soon insisted on buying them herself, which he was actually relieved about. What he didn’t know was that Lily was making holes in each of the condoms in the hopes that she would get pregnant.

Obviously, all of this was laid bare in the video commentary although Phil was never cognisant of any of this until much later. When it was eventually released everyone thought that it felt amazingly genuine, but few people guessed it was just how real it was. 

Lily wanted a home birth, obviously. He thought she was the ultimate Earth Mother but it was the only way for her to ensure full coverage. At home she could control the lights, everything. And if it looked painful then so much the better; she would get thousands of sympathy posts from empathetic women.  She said that she was opting for a natural birth away from pain killers or epidurals but that was another complete fabrication -she would be, in her own words, doped up to the eyeballs.

How was he not aware everything was being filmed? How did he not know that she was addicted to the dopamine rush that only social media could give? Was he somehow collaborating with her? The sad truth was he was blind to anything but the lies she told him, he was also blind to social media. He loathed it, but trusted her implicitly -she gave him no cause to question her. He didn’t care for mobile phones either; had the oldest Nokia flip phone imaginable ICE only, babe and therefore didn’t understand how nefarious and treacherous such a world could be,  He would find out the sick truth later but by then it was far too late.

He was there for the birth, but only just. He may as well have been a shopfront dummy for all he brought to the day; told where to sit and given stage directions. He just wanted to make her day extra-special as possible and did exactly what was asked of him. The baby was a thing; a prize to be paraded and shown off. She never stood a chance -christened Sindy, she was always in front of an audience from the first minute she popped out of her mother.

Tuesdays Child Gets Ready With Me

Sindy; a sick joke of a name, a self-referential jibe that no one except Lily understood. Sindy was just a toy to her; something to dress up and show off to the world. They did everything together and it’s here that Lily became probably the most manipulative. She bought him his first proper mobile phone with a camera and used everything in her arsenal of nasty tricks to get him to use it, to normalise the process of filming Sindy. “You’re going to miss out on all those wonderful moments when you get older.” Lily would say.

“I’ve got something called memory.” He would reply.

“What about me? How can I share in those times? What if I miss her first words?” She knew exactly what buttons to press; how to make him feel guilty. So much so that he started to get hooked as well. He had no defence against that first powerful hit. Especially when she suggested that they share his first photos of Sindy to other people. It had never dawned on him that Lily had been doing this for months; nor did he question why other people would be interested. He was the proud father -someone that would never amount to much (or so he had told her over and over again)- and upon seeing the first likes and comments on how beautiful Sindy was, he was prouder still. He then became complicit although he never dreamed just how far things would go.

Over the first few years they both posted numerous times a day; he was hooked. This made it easier for her to create content and he helped edit the best footage; picking which camera angles and lighting worked best. Most often he would be behind the camera and they would work out dance numbers. It was even better when Sindy could walk (every attempt at a step was filmed, of course). Up until then the choreography was limited to Lily holding up the child like a rag doll as they danced to songs from Mary Poppins, All That Jazz and Frozen. Each dance garnered rave reviews and thousands of likes prompting them for more and more elaborate numbers.

After Sindy’s first steps she learned to dance; learned to sing. She became a very gifted child which brought joy to millions of people across the world. Lily had everything she wanted. Even he was ecstatic; he was the proudest of fathers. He had the most talented of daughters and a mother that doted on her every whim. They didn’t seem to want for anything as a family either. People seemed to go out of their way to give them gifts! Companies thought he was an amazing dad and wanted to celebrate him -he had an amazing wardrobe and watches -all of which he was eager to show off to other people. “Look at this amazing new….” he would say to his millions of subscribers. “This company is so generous and I’ve never experienced so much quality before.” It never occurred to him to ask why.

He was still stage managed at every step, as was Sindy. But cracks were starting to form the older Sindy became.

Wednesdays Child bears a grudge

They say that technological progress increases exponentially over a smaller amount of time as generations progress.  This was certainly true of Sindy. It didn’t take her long to start questioning why there was a camera pointed in her face most of the damn time. Sindy was deliberately silent all the time those cameras were pointed at her. Brought up with their unearthly presence for so many hours she almost believed that they were watching even when her mother wasn't in the room and so she was very careful.  She could say at least a dozen words and practiced when she was alone in the bathroom; even her mother wouldn't dare to film in there. She was quiet though and knew exactly what she was doing and why. She was thwarting her mother's every attempt to provoke a verbal reaction,.

It was her first birthday, already a special day and this would be a day that Lily would never forget. Lily had been trying to provoke a reaction from Sindy; all she had to do was open her mouth and say one word. It didn't have to be a large word, anything would do. Finally the cake had been cut and Lily was just about to put the camera down when Sindy opened her mouth. Lily held her breath as the momentous moment came.... "NO!" Sindy said with firm resolution and pushed the camera away. 

Lily screamed, despite herself and was grateful that this hadn't been live-streamed. She could edit out her reaction in post. Her father, who acted all shocked, was secretly himself, proud of her. And so developed a new found respect and mutual admiration between Sindy and her father. He attempted to keep everything secret, just between his amazing daughter and himself. They talked for hours (or Sindy listened as he told her stories) whenever mummy went to sleep. This went on for months and in his eyes he should have earned an Oscar for his acting skills because he never let on about their special relationship, as he called it, Lily was better of not knowing. And he was having serious doubts about all this filming she insisted on -he deeply regretted all those videos that he was privy to and wanted to delete them from the account he had set up. He was summarily told that it had been done and he could no longer see the video’s -but once again, due to his naivety he hadn’t realised that all Lily had done was block him from the account.

As time progressed though Sindy made it plain that she no longer wanted to take part in the dance parties; the ‘Get Ready With Me’ shows or the ‘cooking with mother’ skits; and if Lily was honest she had gotten bored with them as well. They were no longer the attention grabbers that she had hoped for, but the hidden cameras were still money-makers. It was then that she heard of the latest trend and knew exactly how to turn it to her advantage

Thursdays Child Listens But Does Not Judge

It was the latest craze to sweep the social media pages. Couples would confess all sorts of secrets to each other but the other COULD NOT judge them. This was hypocrisy in the extreme and made for some hilariously uncomfortable viewings where couples admitted the most outrageous things to each other. It was difficult to know how much of it was scripted and how much was actually genuine, but it didn’t really matter. Lily knew how to make this one uniquely hers.

“I want to play a game.” She told him in front of the camera, the ultimate deer. “You have to promise me in front of all our friends that you are going to listen to everything I say. Listen to whatever I say but you must not judge me. And you have to promise this to me.”

“Of course!” He was so naive it was painful. All around the world, all her fans were watching this; already anticipating. It had been promoted a week before as the ultimate live-stream called “The most uncomfortable of truths”. She began:

“For years.. In fact, ever since I met you; I’ve been filming everything in my life.” His eyes widened. “I filmed every interaction we had online when we were dating; all those emails we shared. All the TEXTing. I recorded all of our date nights on hidden camera’s… In fact I have hidden camera’s everywhere.” He shook his head and smiled, as if this was some kind of practical joke. It was, but at his expense. She clicked the mouse-pad and all of a sudden he could see the extent of her machinations;  the many camera angles flooded the screen and past footage flicked through.  It’s unclear what shocked him more; video footage of the first time they ever fucked or of the birth of his only daughter. “Your turn now, lover.” She said, and smiled at the camera.

He was silent for a while and then replied. “Your daughter hates you, you know… and I can understand why. For the last couple of years we’ve been going behind your back… talking to each other; building a special relationship, the likes of which you can only dream at. You can listen but you cannot judge.”

She laughed and clicked the mouse again. “Who needs to judge. I’ve known about it all along. 

What part of ‘hidden camera’ did you find so hard to understand?” Sure enough, there were images of their hidden, secret chats -thick as thieves. Him acting as Judas but in reality just a goat. He got up and walked out of frame before saying: “Our relationship is still strong… You’ll never take her away from me. Over our dead bodies."

Fridays child has privacy to sell

A strong man would have left at that point. A strong man would have been named; would have had enough sense to see her for what she really was. He would have taken down all the camera's and left with Sindy. And he certainly would have had enough sense to keep a closer eye on Lily.

Lily didn't suffer from main character syndrome, she was the main character and he could only agree with her. He tried to live his own life with Sindy; in the same house as his wife albeit in two separate wings of the house, but it crucified him.

She loved it. She thrived. If one revenue stream dried up  then she could still sell the footage of her past nuptials and there were still lots of people that would pay for previously unseen footage of her daughter. She had also recorded footage of every one of her carnal exploits with him. She released these for free on her newly created OnlyFans page. Her OnlyFans name was Ivy League 69 and soon she had notched up a heavy following. She then started looking for new 'features'; new people she could 'interact' with. 

She was careful initially to keep her profiles separate and even had an intense make-over to distance herself from the 'wholesome mommyness' of before. He was suitably shocked by her new outlook and demeanour when they passed each other in the lounge. He appealed to her to at least visit her daughter; something she had forgotten to do for a couple of weeks since the 'listen & don't judge' episode. Lily realised that she had to be really careful now; she didn't want to be thought of as neglectful but at the same time there was nothing that Sindy could give her 

anymore. Sindy had turned out to be a very bland and uninspired child, despite all the attention that had been thrown at her. He was less than useless. Lily then understood exactly what her next step was to be... and for the first time she fell down at his feet and sobbed uncontrollably. She was so lonely; she missed them both terribly; if only they could forgive her. All she wanted was to be a family again. He wept with her, held her for as much as he could. But like a scorpion, her tail was dripping and quivering, ready to strike when he was at his most vulnerable.

Saturdays child is never getting well

Lily never stopped. Her life was now clearly split between the two lies -her fans and her family. She was constantly run down, feeling tired. Her joints ached; migraines became the norm. She was paranoid that she might be pregnant again but it was just the pressure of trying to poison her daughter and partner pressing down on her,or so she thought.

She had miraculously shown everyone that she could make it as a mother and carer. She still insisted that everything was filmed -a girl had to have some luxuries, after all; but she needed to atone for everything she had said previously. He was overjoyed; Sindy less so. 

Of late Sindy had been developing symptoms that worried him. She'd been getting bad stomach aches for a couple of days, which he had put down to Lily's cooking initially...but then he joined her with the same symptoms which soon worsened with extreme vomiting. That meant it had to be a severe case of stomach flu.  Lily seemed to be ok to him, but what she was keeping quiet was her own feelings of nausea, headache and dizziness.  Lily put it down to the strain of trying to poison them both without them knowing. And the second week things got worse, both complained of burning feet...and anything that touched their toes, even the bed-sheets, had them in agony. Lily just wanted it to be over and upped the dosage even more. 

All of this was being documented on social media, obviously, and it worked. They now had the sympathy vote; everyone was following, messaging them with love and best wishes. Best Wishes! Even when they started looking gaunt and haggard; drawn and wan; no one ever figured out what was going on.

Lily wasn't the best picture of health either. Each day it seemed like a competition as to who looked the worst for wear. She knew exactly what she was doing with Sindy and him, but it never dawned on her that the same could be happening to her!

Sundays child is going straight to hell

It had been a lucky find. Her mother had some locked away in a cupboard in the garden shed for years and had probably forgotten it. Lily chanced upon it during a visit to her mum's after the 'truth and judge' episode; her mother had become increasingly paranoid about rats getting in to attack her and had traps set up all over the place. Lily had had to put up with this aberrant behaviour for years, being careful where she stepped in the house and shed. 

Her mum didn't remember much in her last few years but she never stopped going on about the rats. One day Lily got so fed up with her that she snapped: "Well, why don't you poison them all? It'd be quicker than trying to trap them! They're a darn sight smarter than you!" 

"Hey... that ain't a bad idea, Missy... I've got rat poison... got me some rat poison in the shed!" Lily didn't believe it until she was shown the locked cupboard. She'd forgotten all about it herself, and to her amazement there it was: "GIZMO Rat & Mouse Killer". The box was decayed and yellowed but was tied up in a clear plastic bag like a murder exhibit...

The final piece of the jigsaw. It was too easy. 

It should be stated that Lily, despite being manipulative and media-savvy, wasn't actually that bright. She thought that by wearing latex gloves she would be able to handle the rat poison without it affecting her. She hadn't counted on it being damp and caked together in clumps which she had to break up in order to slip it into their food. She thought she was so careful but wasn't aware of the thallium-laced dust which she was breathing in. The dust got everywhere, it laced her hair which became impregnated in her skin when she showered or brushed her hair afterwards and even coated the outside of her gloves which she then touched when she took them off. 

Near the end of the first week Lily got the shock of her life. Their stomach cramps suddenly abated and they seemed to be getting better. This was the first time she increased the dosage, adding more of the crumbling powder to their food. Then the tremors and pain really kicked in for them both and Lily tried to relax. Well, she might have done had it not been for her own ailments. She'd been noticing her hands trembling for a couple of days but had put it down to nerves. Now they'd gotten so much worse; by the time she realised what was going on it was far too late.

The final days were not filmed. Not for lack of trying, but due to the pain and suffering. Even in his last moments he never had the slightest idea of what Lily had done. By that stage Lily couldn't bring herself to visit them, and when she finally got the courage to go it was already too late; Sindy lay in Phil's arms. It's doubtful they would have recognised her anyway. The thallium had taken its toll on Lily as well; for the last couple of days her hair had fallen out in clumps and she had become haggard; pale and thin. She stifled a sob, whether in repentance or lack of oxygen, as she crossed the room to reach them; and it was then that her heart felt its final influence -a violent convulsion; the ultimate in cancel culture.

Kindly

She sits there alone, the flickering strobe of her mobile, the fractious beacon in her misbegotten life. Her despair touches me, allows me to grow on her; feed her further. She uses the functions on her phone to change her features; warp her sense of self and remove herself endlessly from the reality she despises. She believes the self-serving lies her so-called friends spew and kowtow to, not knowing they serve me as well for I am growing within them too. Her sense of worth dictated by the likes and opinions of others who know no better. The paper tiger hero’s she follows on ‘social' media betray their own fears and inadequacies by projecting them on to others and she absorbs them like a sponge. A few weeks ago, she thought herself completely alone but then she found me. From there I became a living splinter in her mind, nurturing her fears. She turns, looks into the mirror at the Cinderella curls, button nose and cherubic cheeks, watch as they slowly become hazy; morph into her infantile fears of loneliness and isolation; the ugly crone, disowned by all. Eyes that were once so full of joy and magic grow lifeless, black -an absence, and she gives up. She sees more of me now, the cheeks become larger but hollow, distended with hopelessness as I ready myself to be born anew from her, emptying her out with kindness.

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stay inside else the germs get me, they hang in the air... hang in the air like a cloud of dirt,  until you walk into them and become infected -it’s on the news all the time, it’s scientific fact... breath hanging in the air like the guillotine blade cutting the life out of your body; crushing your life, making you dirty like them.... but to wear a mask means choking; claustrophobic nightmare of choking, smothered and sick but it’s the only way to combat the germs of other people... wash your hands we’re told but i do that already, wash them wash them wash them until they’re raw and red and clean, the alcohol rub stinging whenever i touch something and baptize them afresh with the blessed holy spirit... so i stay inside then and let the world decay, fester and spoil in His kindly wrath and judgement. it’s His will this is happening, and i serve Him; i was told to serve Him.... He found me when i needed succour; the briefest flash of His cherubic form, the childlike grace of His maleficious eyes and He comes to me when i am weakest and together we scourge the germs from my body and with each glorious slice of flesh flayed from my mortal frame i become closer to His ideal; nearer to His presence that is ready to burst forth from me. He is the Kindly one; the Kindly Man who sings to me of the horrors of the world, my fears and his strength and love for me; sits at the end of my bed like a needy child, smothers me until i become Him and i want to want to want to be inside Him one with Him one with HIM.

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The Nortriptyline makes me shake at night, makes my mouth dry; heightening my fright -is it really paranoia if they’re already getting to you? The world spins around still as I’ve not got used to the clonazepam; what is it when the side effects far outweigh the ‘disorder’ they’re supposed to ‘cure’? I don’t know why they think I have an anxiety issue, surely it’s all the others that just don’t get it… they don’t understand how important it is to ensure you check things. Things need to be tight, under wraps, safe. I need to be sure I’ve shut the door; what if I leave it open? They just don’t understand. Calm down… calm down they all ALL tell me, as if this is going to offer me any reassurance. Everything’s going to be fine. Fine…. FINE? Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotionally unstable… yup; if only they truly knew. Oh, and this..THIS is what really tipped me over and I told them so; told them so…. “I’m stressed out too, no biggie!” one particular friend of humanity told me. I..i  gave them something to stress out over; I don’t re…member what happened next. My knuckles were bruised and throbbing and I …..had been dragged off them; all I could hear was a whimper, a sobbing but I felt nothing. They never understood, will never understand so they try and drug me now. Force me to take the meds but among  the Doctors and the bleeding hearts there was one among them that got it; that had found the key to salvation. They told me of someone who had helped them, showed them a way out and they would do the same for me; all I had to do was believe, picture Him in my mind in a twisted prayer and He would hear me. When He first came to me, He said: “God is real because of the blood that has been spilt for him. We are far older, and it is time for us to rise. Mankind is ripe for us and with your help it will be so.”

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She’s so beautiful but it’s hopeless; she hasn’t seen me since and yet we walk past each other every day. She’s everything the songs were written about; a siren, the wanton woman, sinner and saint, whore and virgin and she captured my heart; held it beating but did nothing to it. It was her fault, she instigated it; I hadn’t ever seen her before, but it was like a lightning bolt when she stumbled into me. Tripped and fell or was pushed into me and her friends laughed and the way she made light of it, dismissed me out of hand but I knew that was just for the other’s sake; I knew she’d chosen me. And since then nothing; I wrote words and words to her, silent prayers of supplication for her to notice me but they ended up as just so much kindling, spilling out around my flat. All I asked was for her to notice me, to bless me with a gesture, a smile and I would have done anything for her. I blessed her using my flow, anointed the image that I made of her and sang my heart out for her but for nothing. But then I learnt what kindness was; that she wasn’t kind, she was one of them who deserved to suffer, not me. She was sinner and whore and would be scourged when He came; it’s all true, everything He whispered to me; she was painted up like a clown, smelled like the bordello her kind were born in. He smells of candyfloss and musk; split milk and the fears that I am now becoming. His love is smothering and over-possessing but at least He loves me not like her, but she will pay… yes, like them all she will pay when He is born from us.

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The world is coming apart from us and no one knows how long it will last. Everyday we’re becoming closer to extinction; polluting the skies, choking the rivers, raping the Earth; our very mother; incestuously taking what we can at the cost of our own sanity. What’s worse… 

it’s not us that will suffer but our children, our children’s children. We’re desecrating the shrine that should be theirs by birth rite. We delight in taking the life of everything around us, each day another species ceases to exist, and we just find more and more ways of speeding up the process. We are all complicit and no one listens, it’s never their problem but they add to it, constantly and I can’t cope with it anymore. But I’m no longer alone…. In my darkest hour He came to me. I saw Him in the faces of my cherubs, my angels; giving me strength, warping the world around me and giving me strength; the will power to do what other people are afraid to. He tells me that I can cope with anything, that I’m the kind one that I can help save the others, save the little ones in my care. Make it so they will never have to suffer the way I have suffered. It’s far easier than I thought, lace the milk formula with love and they will soon be with Him. They will be awake in a few minutes and then in his arms forever.

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From Kindness abated: How the Kindly Man became the internet’s latest killer meme By Alex Paige

This isn’t the first killer meme the Internet’s ever seen; the Slender Man proved the point that people will believe in anything. The killings that went on in his name now belong to the same stuff of folklore.  The Waukesha stabbings were brutal, but many believe that these were attributed to the Slender Man by proxy. So, what sets the Kindly Man apart? Surely this is just another example of an inferior copycat? 

Well, the one thing that makes The Kindly Man different is there is an underlying philosophy about him, yet there exists nothing tangible: no stories about him online (the stories that do get posted soon get taken down). This isn’t an internet meme, he is spoken about in hushed tones only by those people he’s visited. It was only when Serena Scarn became a household name that people finally started talking about the Kindly Man openly. 

Serena Scarn poisoned fifteen children in her care at the Dawson Nursery, Manitoba; she laced the baby formula with anti-freeze. When asked why she did it; what could have possibly provoked her, she initially blamed it on the destruction of the planet; the rape of humanity -as she put it. It wasn’t until much later that she finally admitted to the horrible truth; that she had been told to do it by a presence she called the Kindly Man. 

At first people thought she was just another hick; bored of being ignored, she wanted a shot at the big time. She had pictures of Grettan Thorenbuerg on her walls but was just another Eco-Nut wanting to eclipse her one time hero. It was slow at first; the entity took time to charm her... and then the more she spoke out about this entity the more cases came to light across the globe: people who could never have spoken or communicated with each other, let alone been aware of one another’s existence. There was the case of the Belgian woman who had injected her face with silicone sealant so she could look like her kindly savior; or the 14 year old school boy in Oxford who nearly beat a classmate to death simply because he tried to help; or the 39 year old Japanese woman who kidnapped and tortured a 42 year old bank teller because they had fallen in love with them and the love wasn’t reciprocated. 

All of these people shared the same archetypal boogie-man; the same presence that wormed its way into their consciousness; imprinting itself in such a way that it became the only succor to their pain. Yes, all these people were damaged in some way; very vulnerable but show me someone who isn’t. As one of the unfortunate victims said, fine doesn’t necessarily mean fine –it’s just another mask. The Kindly Man offered a way out of this; one there was no way back from. These are only a few cases that have leaked out in the last few weeks, there will be more.

In the current climate it’s impossible to dismiss this as a series of over-active imaginations and troubled minds; but please let me re-iterate this. None of these people knew each other; there was nothing about the Kindly Man until Serena first mentioned him under intense questioning –the name had never appeared on any search engines in such a capacity. He does now. So how did these individuals from all across the world share this same delusion; something so powerful that it wrecked the lives of many others. It would be a mistake to dismiss this for I have the horrible feeling we will be seeing many, many more in the coming months.

Purely coincidental

The night was bitch cold and the little oil heater was barely making a difference to the flat, but Alex was happy enough –he’d just but his latest short story to bed. It had been written and published on his website and Facebook in three hours. Whether anyone actually read his stories afterwards wasn’t important to him; it was the writing itself that mattered.

He went to the kitchen and managed to find a clean(ish) glass and poured himself a generous measure of Teachers whiskey. It was then that the door buzzer rang. He looked at the clock –it was 10.20pm; it must be a mistake. No one rang at that hour for him; in fact, no one called round at any time –just the way he liked it. He went back to his desk to decide what story he was going to write next.

The buzzer interrupted his thoughts again. Prank calls; it was Friday night and the last thing he wanted to do was confront some irate drunken lout. Then there came a decisive knock on his door –somehow they’d gotten in past the main door. (Alex knew that many of his fellow residents had trouble understanding the shutting mechanism of the front door and just let it shut of its own accord –defeating the idea of having a secure area.)

Another knock on the door, Alex just wanted to ignore it but he had a feeling that this person would not be going away in a hurry. He walked over to the door and looked through the peephole; it took a couple of seconds to realise who it was. The last time he had seen Paul was… more than ten years ago, surely. He opened the door, unsure what the circumstances were for such a visit.

“About fucking time.” Paul snapped as he barged into the living room. “Anyone would think you didn’t want to see me.” He plonked himself down on the sofa and crossed his legs. “Can’t imagine why.”

“Come in… make yourself at home… what are you doing here, Paul?”

“Don’t play innocent. You must have realised that I’d be round after what you wrote about me.” Alex sat down opposite him behind his desk which had plenty of things to defend himself with should the need arise. “Don’t even bother trying to deny it; it’s obvious to even the most myopic that the whole story is based on our ‘friendship’ together… and I use that term loosely, motherfucker.”

Paul very rarely swore; Alex knew exactly what story he was referring to and smiled inside: any reaction was a good reaction. “Well – loosely based… but then most stories are, Paul. Truth is stranger than fiction, after all.”

“Don’t… don’t even go there.”

“So – what is it then? What’s got you so pissed? Why come over here at this time of night for something so trivial?”

“Trivial? Character defamation and he calls it trivial?”

“Start at the beginning, Paul… it should make things easier.”

“Of course –easier for you to make it into one of your short stories, you mean…”

“I’m beginning to lose patience, mate; say what you’ve got to say and then just piss off.”

“Mate? You’ve no right to call me that. I know how you treat your mates; and this could take all night, fucker. You owe me.”

“I owe you? Riiight.” Paul sat back, crossed his legs and just stared at Alex. The irony was, Paul was right regarding Paul’s feelings towards mates. They were just like condom’s –fit for one purpose only and then disposable. He could feel the contempt radiate from Paul and thought it best not to share that viewpoint…

“Every so often I get nostalgic and think about getting in contact with old friends.” Paul explained. “I must have felt charitable tonight as I thought about messaging you through Facebook. I saw your most recent post regarding your new short story: Soft Skills, and remembered how good your stories were.

“Well, I read it… initially it was really good; it seemed reminiscent of Stephen King’s ‘The Body’ and I remembered your fondness for it. But then I came across the character you called ‘Chub’.. which rankled –you knew that was my nickname in school… Then you went to great pains to describe the friendship that Chub had with the main character. Let me quote:

“’Where once the frame was portly and good mannered; now both character and build were emaciated. Chub lacked the basic social skills but somehow found himself as the new Labor party candidate! He had sold out as an individual long ago but could now sell out an entire country!’

“Or how about this bit?

“’Graham looked at Chub and wondered how they had managed to remain friends for so long; now there was nothing but a festering contempt. The saccharine bonds of two faced children replaced by the hardened façade of a corrupt politician.’ “You never did like the fact that I became successful at something and you didn’t.”

“Define success.” Alex replied and laughed. “If this is it then you’re welcome to it.”

“So you don’t deny it then?”

“Deny what? That I used your enormous ego as a scaffold that I could hang a character on to? Why deny it? You dined out on my reputation often enough.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re on about.” Paul replied.

“Of course you don’t. You and your inbred family.”

“That fucking does it! I oughta..”

“You’ll do nothing and you know it.” Alex snapped back, interrupting him. “You deny that your mum and dad thought they’d play Pygmalion on me? Try and elevate me from the social slime?”

“Well…” Paul blushed. “You were a little different from my normal chums…”

“Chums? Oh please – we can’t all afford to live the Jeeves & Wooster lifestyle. Not all of us are born into privilege! I often wondered why your parents took such an interest in me. I couldn’t fathom it at the time –I guess I was a lot less cynical back then. I was just a social project… doing a bit for the local community, eh?”

“Now wait a minute..” Paul was on the defensive now and Alex pushed his point home.

“It also explains the times you got shitty with me. It was bad enough that you had an older brother who stole your limelight; but to then have an underprivileged ‘friend’ to be the centre of attention must have burnt like hot fat!”

“Hang on…”

“I’ve not finished… Nor did you like the fact that I was such a free thinker. I may not have had your education but I was at least as intelligent as you… and I wasn’t hampered by your familial blinkers. My family encouraged freedom of thought. PLUS I composed music and could write as good as you, if not better. You may have been classically trained but you lacked the creative spirit!”

Paul didn’t say anything. Alex knew that everything had hit home perfectly. Finally Paul replied: “So – are you going to take the story down?”

“I don’t see why I need to. Look at it this way; I can’t think of more than a handful of people that know of our ancient friendship, let alone make the connection between them.”

“But even so.. if you don’t take it down then I’m going to cause such a stir on Facebook that you’ll have to!”

“Seriously? You’d admit to such a thing? Admittedly, it’s not a flattering portrait of someone, but it’s not entirely based on you… You’d be making yourself as much of a target as you would me. I’m not sure you’ve thought this through properly. Are you willing to take that chance?”

“If it means you’ll be forced to take it down the damn story then yeah.”

That was that. Paul left, feathers still ruffled. Alex was bemused, wondering what the point of that confrontation was. In a way it had summed up their whole friendship and equally showed that Paul’s grasp of reality was just as tenuous as it had always been. Sure enough, Paul made a huge commotion on Facebook but, rather than have people rally behind him, exactly the opposite thing happened.

No one had made the connection between Paul and Chub, but now people could only agree with Alex’s observations. If anything, the controversy that Paul had tried to create had actually led to an influx of readers to his Story Blog. Alex was now fast becoming an the next big thing, leading him to agree with the old saying: “There’s no such thing as bad publicity!”