"I discovered for myself first hand that my own personal boogieman, and the one everyone was afraid of, was just a man after all, or perhaps just the figment of someone's imagination..."
Flagg stood in a corner of the rec room, arms crossed and head bowed, listening to the speaker overhead. A few people filtered in and out, but he took hardly any notice of them, listening as keenly to Bateman's treatise as a student in one of his classes. There was an unusual expression on his face; his usual easy grin had been replaced by a concerned, thoughtful, and vaguely studious gaze.
Then his guests came. One by one, Bateman led these voices through a roundabout discussion about fear, which he unfailingly pronounced in the same adamant, carefully enunciated tone. His tone was as merry as if he were discussing Santa Claus instead of this elusive worst fear he kept alluding to, and Flagg thought-- no, knew-- that Bateman was addressing him directly. Taunting him
( ... )
"Gladly," Glen said and continued with the air of a man discussing the weather. "Around a year and a half, give or take. Been running this show about a year altogether as a matter of fact. Had some interesting folk on the show. You've been listening this morning? Tell me, what do you think of what our other guests have had to say."
Glen sat back and twirled his finger for Flagg to fill the air time, in a gesture calculated to annoy the man.
Flagg raised his eyebrows and smiled thinly. "So you were here last Halloween. I'm not wrong in thinking it'd be appropriate for the island to, ahh, carpe the diem and get into the spirit of things for the holiday, am I?"
He was leaning forward, looking at Glen with shining black eyes just positively welling with hungry enthusiasm.
On second thought, it might have been enthusiastic hunger.
"Indeed no, although i do believe that I missed quite a bit of the excitement from the year before. I will not say I regret it though. As I recall I had my hands full with another sort of national crisis," Glen said conversationally.
"As I understand it, Halloween is one time of the year, along with Christmas, that you can almost certainly guarantee that something unusual will happen."
He settled back into his chair and laced his fingers together. "Any plans for the coming Holiday?"
"Better than having your lungs full of it, though, am I right?" he asked, making no attempt to bite back his smile.
"Popular guy like me's always got plans, Mr. Bateman." Flagg leaned back and laced his fingers together. "And this holiday happens to be a favorite of mine."
Comments 12
Flagg stood in a corner of the rec room, arms crossed and head bowed, listening to the speaker overhead. A few people filtered in and out, but he took hardly any notice of them, listening as keenly to Bateman's treatise as a student in one of his classes. There was an unusual expression on his face; his usual easy grin had been replaced by a concerned, thoughtful, and vaguely studious gaze.
Then his guests came. One by one, Bateman led these voices through a roundabout discussion about fear, which he unfailingly pronounced in the same adamant, carefully enunciated tone. His tone was as merry as if he were discussing Santa Claus instead of this elusive worst fear he kept alluding to, and Flagg thought-- no, knew-- that Bateman was addressing him directly. Taunting him ( ... )
Reply
Glen sat back and twirled his finger for Flagg to fill the air time, in a gesture calculated to annoy the man.
Reply
He was leaning forward, looking at Glen with shining black eyes just positively welling with hungry enthusiasm.
On second thought, it might have been enthusiastic hunger.
Reply
"As I understand it, Halloween is one time of the year, along with Christmas, that you can almost certainly guarantee that something unusual will happen."
He settled back into his chair and laced his fingers together. "Any plans for the coming Holiday?"
Reply
"Popular guy like me's always got plans, Mr. Bateman." Flagg leaned back and laced his fingers together. "And this holiday happens to be a favorite of mine."
Reply
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