Sunset, before he knew it. The repetitions drilled themselves quickly into Saheel, and though his arms ached and his throat was parched and his stomach was empty, he kept going. Position the stick behind the head, twist the body and — thwack. Position the stick behind the head, twist the body and — thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

Thwack. He didn't let himself stop, because if he stopped he would have to think about who he'd left behind. No stranger to meditation, he let himself slip into a trance and willed his sense of self to decay. Sublimate the ego. Become only the body. Forget.

Thwack. Thwack until the number appeared, whereupon he let the stick slip out of his stinging, blistered hands. He stood by the tent, swaying from fatigue, and looked at the frozen rock before him. It dangled midair, innocently.

Before he pocketed it, he took a piece of chalk and marked the side he'd been hitting so he could remember which direction it would fly. If it misfired, he wouldn't have time to perceive the mistake — he'd just die. He half expected it to weigh him down, or crackle with dark energy, or something, but it was indeed just a simple rock with the power to break reality over its knee.

The lift doors opened as soon as he called for it, and he took one last look at the heathland before pressing button six.

"So long," he said, and the doors shut.

In contrast to the fiery pink glow of the sunset, the lift felt impossibly dark. Above him, he heard all manner of grinding and clanking, whispering and chanting, and the slow scrape of bone crawling down the shaft. Saheel shuddered. It wouldn't take long until they reached the first layer.

He expected the lift to take him to his PhD bedroom-cum-study, but it didn't. The doors opened. A thin strip of light squeezed through the crack in a blind, piercing the darkness to fall directly on his wife's face.

She was snuggled up under the duvet, hugging it close to herself, and her black hair fell around her, stirred by the lightness of her breath. She looked the very image of serenity.

He stepped out of the lift, his foot sinking into the soft mattress, displacing her so that she rolled up against him, engulfing him in the heat of her body. Groggily, her eyelids raised. She looked up.

"You're back. What are you standing on the bed for?" she murmured, voice low and drowsy.

Saheel felt that no matter what this game had thrown at him, he'd done an okay job keeping himself together and focused on the task at hand. But hearing the love of his life's voice, the person who'd supported him and nourished him and cherished him for fifteen years — it was too much.

He hugged her and didn't let go; he pressed his face into her shoulder, which was burning hot with warmth and goodness, and he spilled tears all over her. He was racked with the kind of despair that made it impossible to even begin saying something, because as soon as he tried — and where would he even begin to explain the events of the past day — he erupted into sobs. He ached with the toll.

But somehow she understood, for she wrapped her arms around him and held him close, and she took a hand and ran it through his hair.

"It's okay," she cooed. "It's alright."

He felt torn inside out. His forehead ached from screwing up his face so tightly, but he just couldn't stop crying. He pulled her ever closer, as even the smallest degree of separation, the tiniest pocket of air between them, was agony.

He thought he'd never see her again.

"I'm here," she said, the bass from her voice box vibrating through him. She planted kisses on his forehead, the tiniest of candles to light up the darkest of caves.

They lay there, comforter and comfortee, locked in that embrace, until he fell asleep, drifting away, enveloped in her warmth.

—

"Happy Saturday, my dudes, this is Sandbank FM with the 8 o' clock news. Gnarly!"

It wasn’t a Saturday that Saheel had lived through.

He opened his eyes and reflexively hammered the alarm off. As he rose, several objects rose with him in his pockets — the two remote, the tile, the water pistol, the glue gun, and the rock, and he resented their weight. He prayed ardently it was all just a dream, but there was the count, glowing out of his hand. The black robe got swapped for a white robe, which was more suitable to the tropical climate.

He followed his nose into the kitchen, where Asha was frying up an omelette, her hair tied up in a bun. His vicarage was  a cosy open-plan bungalow just ten meters and a few triple-glazed windows from the sea, with a breakfast bar dividing the kitchen and the lounge. As for the weather — well, it was Sandbank, so a beautiful teal sky hung over the waves, and the sun's rays blanketed the house enough for them to never need heating.

As on every weekend morning, he started it by hugging her from behind; they shared a kiss, and he put on a pot of coffee for them.

She regarded him, genuine sorrow on her face, and said, "Feeling better now?"

He nodded, and went back to kiss her again.

He said, "I just missed you."

"Me too," she said, pressing him into her side as she turned back to save the egg from burning. "The weeks are getting awfully lonely. Are you sure you're okay? Come here, don't go crying on me again..."

"It's not something I can explain," he said, lip wobbling. "I thought we'd finally found a way out of the darkness. But even though we put everything into it, we fell short of the mark, and I'm worried now that all hope is lost."

"There, there." Asha plated up the omelettes, dashed them with pepper, and slid them onto the table. "Remember your masters? You'll keep at it and find a breakthrough like you always do. It's all a test from the big man, right?"

"Maybe," he said, plopping down two mugs of steaming filter coffee. "Maybe not."

"Don't worry about it now," she said, "It wouldn't be much of a weekend break if all you did was stress over your project."

Saheel nodded, hoovering up the omelette and all of its gooey, eggy goodness, savouring the pepper that started a pleasant fire in his mouth, and then he washed it down with the coffee.

They tidied away in unison, and everything was washed up and back in the cupboards within minutes.

"Oh goodness, look at the time," said Asha. "We haven't got long to get everything ready."

"Why?" he asked, and even as they stood idly they had a hand on each other. "What time did you say they could come round?"

"Eleven. They seemed to want to spend the day together; apparently you and him have a lot of catching up to do!"

"Maybe less than you think. Do you want to shop or tidy?" asked Saheel, getting the car keys from the bowl.

"Shop," she said, taking them off him. "You got enough driving in yesterday, by my reckoning. Just make sure to actually move the furniture when you hoover, sweetheart."

"Yeah, yeah," he said.

They kissed, and then she was out the door. Saheel turned his attention to the house, and as before, tried to impose a set of repetitions on his body so that he didn't have to think about the weight he was carrying. He hoovered, fluffed the cushions, wiped down the surfaces, bleached the toilet, and was cleaning the windows by the time she got back. If Sean was going to die today, he wasn't going to let it be due to lack of hygiene.

"Wow," she exclaimed, as he showed her around like an estate agent. "How did you get all this done so quickly? It normally takes you a day just to decide which antibacterial spray you want to use!"

"I'm a man on a mission," he said, fingering the remote in his pocket.

The doorbell rang — to the tune of ding dong merrily on high, of course. Saheel put an arm round Asha as they went to open the door.

"Hiiiiiii," the four of them chorused.

Sean extended his hand, and Saheel shook it. Despite the heat, the Irish Vicar wore a sweater and black trousers, and his face was sickly pale. In fact, he was actually shivering; his fingers were ice cold. So this was the man he was going to kill.

Dove leaned in, and they kissed each other on the cheek. She was beautiful, her blonde locks, her shapely features, the tiny smattering of lipstick, the way her summer dress hung off her body — think of bible quotes, Saheel, bible quotes! Deuteronomy 2? He hadn't preached that one in ages, let's see...

Both of his guests wore wedding rings, which was natural, after all, because they were married.

"Come in," said Asha, stepping aside so they could do just that. Saheel looked at his wife, and of course, she was even more beautiful — his soulmate. If she bade him, he'd renounce his faith in an instant. In her t-shirt and shorts, she looked like home.

Sean and Dove made a show of wiping their shoes on the doormat — how odd, to not wear sandals in Sandbank — and then bent over to unlace them.

"Don't worry about your shoes," said Saheel, "It's fine, just come in."

"Now now," said Sean, prising them off his feet, "I'd already started going to the trouble of taking them off, it's only the right thing to do to keep going."

Asha giggled; Saheel laughed.

"There we are," said Dove. "Oh, what a lovely house! So close to the sea! Brilliant!"

"Sit down, I'll get you both a coffee," said Asha. "The windows aren't so good when the seagulls end up pooing on them."

Sean laughed; Saheel laughed. They took their place on the leather sofas, which were naturally angled to take advantage of the view.

"Yeah," said Sean, relaxedly sinking in, spreading his arms and legs to either side of him. "I've already had to clean a few of the buggers off of the church roof."

"That must be quite the change of pace from Barden," said Saheel, hugging his knees.

"Man, there's so many differences, I don't even know where to start," he said, taking a cup that Asha passed to him. "Thanks, Asha."

"Thank you," said Dove, sipping on it. "Oh, what a lovely blend. What blend is this?"

"It's from Lidl," said Asha. "It's not a special blend."

Saheel moved up so she could nestle in next to him. Remembering their plans for the day, he said, "Thanks, honey. Sean, Dove, we're thinking of taking you guys out for a walk along the seafront. I don't know if you know, but there's a protected colony of birds about a mile to the east. How does that sound?"

"That sounds swell," said Sean.

"Yeah," said Dove. "What kind of birds?"

"Oh, parrots, parakeets," said Asha. "It's the perfect place if you ever decide you've had enough of the church and want to take up life as a pirate."

Sean laughed; Saheel laughed.