Chromatic Fear God and Its Goth Boyfriend
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A Distorted Portrait of Gerry Keay by AdorationMajestic, Pinkandglitterdinosaur
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
25 Oct 2020
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Summary
I sat on the edge of the motel bed, eyes closed, smoking a cigarette, when the sound of the day started up. That day, it was a high pitched static, the kind an old TV makes when you turn it on. Most days it was some form of static, but occasionally I would be stuck with an arrhythmic popping. Other days I would be stuck hearing what I could only describe as the color yellow.
It was about two in the morning when I woke up from a thirty something hour nap and checked my phone to catch up on what I’d missed. Only, I hadn’t missed anything. I had no missed calls, no unread messages, no new emails, and no more leads on the case. And so I took the moment to appeal to my unprofessional side and smoke a cig.
In the not-so-silent motel, I wasn’t expecting any peace. When I put out my cigarette, though, everything was quiet. There was no shouting or banging in the walls, no cars on the street outside, and the static was gone. The last part was the single most concerning bit.
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