Horror- to me, is like having a missing tooth. You poke at it, to discover it's absence, to comfort yourself that it's not there. Horror is a discovery, an itch that sometimes I can't help but scratch with enthusiastic mad glee. I like (and revisit, and revile) stories that touch at something within me, something that scares me, something that disturbs me. So, for me, this story had "it." I am truly desperately deeply afraid of having Alzheimer's. I've been a caretaker, among other odd jobs- and elderly with Alzheimer's and/or dementia are truly awful, sad, sweet, and always the ones who needed me the most. I don't want to watch while my brain leaches away in bits and gasps. And this story touched hard on that fear- prodded it deeply and thoroughly. Well told. Well read. I.. "liked" this oneand plan on revisiting it. After all, sometimes exploring the things that are scary makes them less fearsone.
Oh, great and mighty Alasdair, Orator Maleficent, He of the Silvered Tongue, guide this humble fangirl past jumping up and down and squeeing upon hearing the greatness of Thy voice.
Oh mighty Mur the Magnificent. I am not worthy.