Garth Marenghi in “Unfinished Business”

Garth Marenghi

(sitting at his desk, reading from one of his novels Black Fang) The moonlight shone down on the place, unhindered. The gnarled parapets jagged upwards, like a bony hand of icy indifference. In the background there was a pigeon. Who knew how long the place had stood there? 40 years? 50 years? Tempus immemoria, i.e. always? But it was a bad place, that much was certain. A very bad place indeed.