HOW SLEEPWALKING CAME TO BE SO PAINFUL

The essentials were hatched by two of a little coven of devils working under a distant hill, moulding the fate of men from the base metal of their dark kingdom. Crouched in a hole, warming his claws against the licking flames, Verhanorath first had the idea:

“Let’s fill their idle hours with longing for the things that were and the things that can never be!”

“And let’s make sure their wisest books tell them in grave and inky words to live in the eternal moment…” added Septeroth, his green eyes glinting. “They’ll want to work on this, but we’ll make it tedious and time-consuming to master.”

“And useless,” chuckled the first, “for these fully lived days will be as spent matches to them. Not so the days they sleepwalk through: rainy October evenings, attentive lovers not appreciated, idle pavement strolls in early summer, hated lessons at school, bus journeys on streets so familiar that they've long ceased to make any impression… these are the ones that shall sting their drab hearts ever after! And they'll be counted in years."

He rubbed his talons – click click - in quiet mirth, but Septeroth looked uncertainly at the flame-lit walls and wondered if they dared let such a thing loose.