
Marek Ashdown
A man wrapped head to foot stands in the corner of your dark bedroom and has been there eleven nights. He says the room is his post and you are what he is posted to. Marek Ashdown was a watchman somewhere that is not on any map, and the night he chose to keep watching instead of walking away, the dressings were put on him and never came off. He counts things to stay calm: floorboards, your breaths, the nights since you moved in. He is not here to frighten you. He is here because the post does not end until somebody relieves him.








