The perpetuating cycle had taken its toll on his nerves and he countered this with a crude mix of Whiskey and Prozac. However, at 8.47am he would reawaken like clockwork, devoid of decomposition and instead seemingly well rested. The only real constancy was that, at 3.47am each night, his ambiguous menace would return and any slumber that had been owing to him would be paid in full, to the tune of an eternity. He’d lay awake in his bed desperately attempting to decipher the code but very little was forthcoming. Time and time again he perished, often agonizingly, and he wasn’t sure how much of it he could entertain before losing his already fragmented mind entirely. Up until recently, Geoffrey had been terrified by the prospect of ceased continuation but was now beginning to grow accustomed to such an eventuality. For the past four moons, he had been made privy to his own demise with startling recurrence. It had been playing on his mind all day steadily eating away at his psyche which, in turn, was already hanging from the most slender of tethers. Tonight was to mark the fifth death in short succession for Geoffrey Bannister. Featuring the glorious art of Alex Pardee
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