Reflections on Narrow Escapes

Okay, so the war is definitely still on. As I was driving home from work yesterday, somebody drove me off the road - off Mopac, just to be specific for a change. The vehicle that hit me was an older-model van, but I only found that out this afternoon; all I saw was a wall of white filling the left side of my vision. I felt the car start to turn, out of my control.

There was a moment of silvery static, and then I was in our apartment. Lucky, lucky, lucky... For one thing, Claire wasn't home yet. Lucky. For another, I was able to get back over to the site of the accident, on foot, quickly enough for the police to assume that I had simply wandered away after the crash, instead of...

Well, whatever it was. Lucky. I'd arrived in the apartment stark naked, but I still wasn't going to complain. Being in the car when it smashed into the support column of that bridge would have been a whole lot more inconvenient. The paramedics were frankly amazed that I didn't seem to be injured, but apparently they've seen stranger things. So my cover is still intact, which is so far past lucky as to be actively miraculous.

Hector the Cat, by the way, didn't even hiss at me. He was looking at me when I picked myself up off the floor, and then he shot off towards the bedroom and vanished. We found him under the bed when Claire got home. Well, not immediately; when Claire learned that I'd been in a wreck, she immediately insisted on checking me over. She settled down eventually, but for a while there she was really scared.

Work is back to normal, but now I have to deal with the insurance company... and figure out how to kill the entire snake cult before they try anything like this again. Or before they decide to target Claire as a way to get to me.

This is not how I wanted to start the year.

Reflections of a Deranged Cultist is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, businesses, or semideific extradimensional entities is entirely coincidental.