Nails On The Wall, Neil On My Mind

The house belonged to my grandparents. It was to be demolished soon with those big balls; they wouldn't need any TNT because the house was made of wood: the perfect oak. The most perfect you could find that area at least. When you're a kid, you don't really pay attention to those kinda things. Only when you grow up, you notice the astounding the history that lies in between those layers of wood.

It was a nice summer day; you know, flowers and all that jazz. It was going to be the last time I saw the house before they built a new, brick-n-mortar one. Ironically, it was the first time I dared to take a peak inside. There was a man in the house, no one I knew but somehow he looked familiar. I walked up the stairs with creaks and squeaks accompanying me and walked into a room with an old bed and a closet. The man was sitting on the bed; he patted the spot next to him: "Come, sit, my child." As freaked out as I was, I decided to obey. He grabbed my face gently and told me to look in his eyes.

The rest is too blurry to tell: Doors opening to new worlds, strangers in the middle of the night, gas station stories, shadows and little strange girls...

Yes, I am an asshole.

Yes, I've lured you in and I'm leaving you right here, in the middle of my story, with yourself.

Honestly, folks, I can not tell this story. I do not possess enough power to do so. I am not that good.

However, I won't be cruel and tell you what to do next. You're going to do exactly what I say: You're going to go to the nearest bookstore, wander through the fiction section and come across a name that you'll somehow recall but won't be sure. You'll pick one of the books of this author, buy it, go home and read it. I can bet you all I have right now -which, ironically, is just 10 bucks- that you will love the book. Then you're going to sleep. And perhaps dream of a beautiful land with lots of different people in it. But there's going to be one guy who shall repeatedly appear in your dreams. Not necessarily as himself, but with his words and imagination.

Neil Gaiman.