The engine roared and the car powered around the bend, hugging the bitumen like it were a long-lost lover. The man who had scared millions with his novels about ghosts and ghoulies paid scant attention to the hundred foot drop several yards to his right. After all, he was used to living on the edge and most times that edge stood between him and a hell of a lot more than a hundred foot drop. The road straightened ahead of him. He kept his foot flat to the floor and the BMW motored along the road at over a hundred miles an hour. The adrenalin washed over his body like a breathtaking wave of energy. His heart pounded like a drum inside his chest. He was alive. And he was free. He passed a sign on the side of the road that read WELCOME TO BELLINGEN: POPULATION 3001. He often wondered when he saw that sign who that one was. Were they happy or sad? Loved or loathed? Overworked and underpaid, perhaps? And would they climb to the top of the tower and start blowing people away if they were handed a rifle and a dozen bullets, just like the girl the Boomtown Rats wrote about in the song, I Don’t Like Mondays?
