‘No, I’m not scared. I just…’ I couldn’t come up with an excuse. ‘I’m not scared,’ I repeated. ‘Prove it,’ Billy challenged. ‘Si...g with us.’ ‘No,’ I repeated. My heart was racing and I had an urge to run, but my feet wouldn’t move. ‘Lance,’ Billy said, firmly. I looked at them for a moment. I was about to give it when… Fear. That’s what I felt. A tremendous wave of fear rushed over me, for no reason at all. My heart was pounding, my chest hurt, and it was getting harder to breathe, causing me. She once again calls to me and I can refuse her tender embraces no longer. I’d opened the china cabinet in my green room, my study and writing room and held the antique glass bottle in my hand. The glass Absinthe decanter was a rare one, an 1890’s era Daum hand-engraved cameo glass with silver gilt bottle that had a provenance originating from the hands of the famous French Art Nouveau artist Henri Toulouse Lautrec, a gift from him to a friend complete with a short hand-written note. I’d bought. More

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