The Interview

Hi everyone.  I’m Shaun Allan and I’m an author from Grimsby in the UK.  I’ve written for most of my life (I couldn’t hold a pen in the early days) and have penned a variety of stories, ranging from science fiction to horror to humour to children’s.  I’ve also written a paranormal thriller called Sin, and have appeared on Sky TV to discuss traditional versus electronic publishing.

Except, of course, I’m none of those things.  I don’t really exist.  I’m a pigment of Sin’s emancipation – as Sin himself would say.  I’m not surrounded by girls (in the shape of my partner and daughters) with only our three cats (all male) to back me up – we have fish too but their sex is undecided… although, as I don’t exist I suppose I don’t have fish…

Being unreal can be confusing sometimes.

So.  I’m Shaun, and I’d be pleased to meet you if there was any chance of escaping the confines of Sin’s imagination.  Going by some aspects of him, though, I wouldn’t like to say that isn’t actually possible.

Hi.  Oh, I said that.  Well.  I’m here to interview Sin, lunatic extraordinaire – or, as he would have us believe, non-lunatic ordinaire.  Why would one interview a madman?  Well, it worked for Clarisse when she met with the goodly Mr. Lecter.  And, as Sin protests that he’s not actually crazy, I may get some more sense.  We shall see.

SA: Hello Sin.

Sin: Hi Shaun.  How are you?

SA: I’m fine thank you.  It’s a little dark in here, but I don’t mind.

Sin: I’m sorry about that.  I’d like to brighten it up in there, but the gloom in the hospital kind of invades my head.

SA: A little like I’m doing?

Sin: *laughs* Not quite.  You’re a welcome deviation.  Connors is the only one who invades my head.

SA: Thanks, I think.  Although the hospital is glaringly white.  I wouldn’t have thought the term ‘gloom’ suits?

Sin: Well, you’d think so, but in a building where no one is particularly happy, even the blinding walls can feel dark.

SA: Well.  Yes…  Let’s lighten the mood a little, shall we?

Sin: Unlike the inside of my head?

SA: Indeed.  So.  You’re crazy?

Sin: Hey, don’t waste your time, OK?  I’d prefer it if you’d get right to the point!

SA: I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to be so blunt.

Sin: Don’t worry.  I’ve been called much worse in here.  In answer to your question, yes, I’m crazy.  Except when I’m not.

SA: When you’re not?  You switch it on and off?

Sin: After a fashion, I suppose you could say I do.  I’m crazy as a loon… when i want to be.

SA: So, from that, do I assume you’re not really?

Sin: You can indeedy.  My wibble doesn’t wobble.  I act up so they’ll come and give me the drugs.  Little pricks giving little pricks.

SA: Why would you do that?  I can’t see why anyone would want to actually volunteer to be locked up in an asylum.

Sin: Maybe I’m crazy to do it then?

SA: *I shrug my shoulders.  Maybe he has more in common with a certain cannibal than I thought*

Sin: You do realise, as you’re a conjuration of my consciousness, I can hear your thoughts?

SA: Oh, sorry.  I didn’t mean to offend you.  You just seem to be… contradictory.

Sin: I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.

SA: You’re welcome.  Why, then, did you deliberately put yourself in here?

Sin: I needed it all to stop.  I couldn’t take it anymore.  I felt like I was being haunted.

SA: ‘It’?

Sin:  Yes, ‘it’.  The deaths.  The screams.  I couldn’t think of how else I could end it other than locking myself away somewhere where they’d pump me full of drugs to take it all away.

SA: What deaths?  What screams?

Sin: Shaun, people die around me.  I don’t like it and I can’t help it, but they do.

SA: They die?

Sin: Yes.  They die.  So I need a healthy dose of oblivion to keep me out of it, so it stops.

SA: Does Dr. Connors know this?

Sin: No.  He thinks I’m just paranoid.  I’m hardly going to tell him that, am I?  He’ll think I’m…

SA: Crazy?

Sin: Exactly.  Which I’m not.

SA: How’s it going with that plan then?  Is it working?

Sin: Actually, no.  I can still hear their screams and I can still feel their deaths.

SA: Hmmm…  What are you going to do about that?

Sin: I’m going to do the only thing I can.  I’m going to kill myself.

SA: Suicide?  So, people die around you and you want to commit suicide, but you’re not crazy.

Sin: That’s right.

SA: OK… I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt on that.  How are you planning on doing that?  After all, this is an asylum.  I assume you’re not even allowed shoelaces?

Sin: That’s the best bit.

SA: Killing yourself has a ‘best bit’?

Sin: It does indeed.

SA: So, tell me.  How will you do it.

Sin: Teleportation.

I think you’ll agree that that’s my cue to take my leave of Sin’s senses, as he’s clearly done so himself.  I must admit, though, that he seems at least as sane as I.  Perhaps that’s his composure, though.  He doesn’t look like Doc Brown for a start.  He looks like you or I.

He looks ordinary.

They do say it’s always the quiet ones.

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