Free Geekhood by Andy Robb Page A

have to suffer?
    IM: Parents. Meh.
    My self-pitying sag turns into a resigned slump. I guess I’m still angry at him for cocking things up with Mum.
    Dinner does nothing to lighten my mood. Mum’s all a-twinkle with the possibility that her son might be about to join the human race, and Tony’s testing the limits of his leash, dropping in questions like “Who’s coming over on Friday, then?” and “Anything happen at school today?” I imagine that this is what it felt like being on the rack. I get through my shepherd’s pie as quickly as I can and then lumber back to my Lair to write about the theme of loneliness in Of Mice and Men.
    IM: One A* coming right up.

    That night, the Dream is upon me almost as soon as my eyes close. This time, my dream-self opens his eyes and looks around my room. All is dark and quiet.
    Wait; what’s that?
    I look over to the corner of the room just oppositemy bed and the figure is there, sitting hunched against the wall. It seems to have taken on more form since our last encounter – this time, it appears to be made of swirling grey mist that chalks its outline in the dark. Only its lava-red eyes remain constant, as whatever passes for the creature’s skin rolls and curls like cigarette smoke caught in sunlight. It just sits there, watching me.
    My heart is going like a jack hammer and I feel waves of hostility coming off this thing in the corner of my room. Suddenly, I heave myself from the bed, but my limbs and muscles are like dead weights and I stagger on leaden legs to the bedroom door. Too late; it’s there, waiting for me, standing in my way. This close to it, I can hear its breathing; it sounds laboured and hoarse and there are weird vowel sounds coming from behind its swirling lips. Or maybe it’s me, maybe I’m trying to call for help and my mouth won’t work properly – I don’t know.
    In a panic, I totter backwards and lurch to the basin that used to be in my old bathroom and has suddenly appeared in my new bedroom. For some reason, I think that splashing my face with water will help me out of this situation. I glance in the mirror above the basin and see that the creature has vanished. To my horror, as I turn on the taps it’s not water that comes out, but the curling, twisting smog of my assailant. He flows into the basin, growing in size and shape, until he eventually puts a mistyhand over my nose and mouth. Choking, I drop to my knees, swiping at the creature’s arm, but my hands just pass through it. I can feel the hand cutting off my breathing and I drop to the floor, face down…
    …and wake up on the floor in a heap to the sound of my alarm clock, seemingly trying to eat the pillow that has followed me from the bed.
    IM: Mor-ning!
    At this point, I think I might need professional help.

SEVEN
    There’s nothing like a deadline to focus the mind. But it’s not Precipitation in the North-East and nor is it toiling my way through the text of Of Mice and Men that has my brain working overtime this particular Tuesday morning. And it’s not worrying about why Matt chose a different route to school. No, my waking hours are taken up with thinking about Friday.
    It’s got to be Just Right.
    Just Right means I’ve got to look at the adventure we’re playing that night and find a way of worming Sarah in. I’ve already sketched out her Character Profile in my head and pretty much decided that she’ll be a Level 3 Sorceress. I could have made her a Level 4, but that might seem a bit too much like favouritism; after all, Beggsy and the boys have been playing this campaign for a couple of months and have only just earned their Level 4 spurs. And I’ve got to find a way of getting her in on the Game without upsetting the balance of the story too much. The story which, I might add, was penned by my own fair hand.
    For those of you new to the Game, I’ll keep this simple: I’m the Dungeon Master (hereafter known as the DM) and Sarah and the rest of the merry band