(or how the boys solved Racism)
Hate yourself? Follow us Jason and Karl on Instagram. Jason: @howman_fishing Karl: @karlpaustian Intro and outro by https://www.instagram.com/craftmotel/ (Ben Maynard) Cover art by https://www.instagram.com/iightspeed/ (Nick Paustian) Lettering by https://www.instagram.com/tamaraseptember/ (Tamara Scheiwe) Additional music by https://freesound.org/people/f-r-a-g-i-l-e/ (f-r-a-g-i-l-e) ----------------------------- Chapter 1 Jason moved to the window and pressed his hand against the glass. The rain looked as if it would never end. It had just passed two in the morning, the ancient grandfather clock in the hall made that clear, but Jason couldn’t sleep. He rarely could these nights. He stared out into the darkness only to have the moors lit up with a flash of lightning. He thought he saw a shape on the far end of the estate’s drive, but his eyes couldn’t adjust to the change in light fast enough and just like that all was dark outside again. That shape burned into his retina and with it came the hope he dared not speak aloud. He stood there, motionless for minutes, his only company the incessant tapping of the rain hitting the clay roof tiles. His eyes focused down the way, trying to make out any change in the viscosity of the darkness. Any sign of movement. In his concentrated state he found the pane fogging up with his quickened breath. He used the shawl he’d taken from the ottoman to rub it away. He didn’t want anything interfering with his vision. And just like that, with another brilliant flash of light, he was there. Halfway down the drive, sodden and miserable, and cloaked from head to toe he sat on the back of an equally sodden and miserable mare. But there was no mistaking that stance, it was his Mr. Knightley, his Mr. Darcy, his Heathcliff... Karl had returned, and all would be right in the world.
