[i]It’s supposed to be winter now .

The newscasters say it’s the coldest yet.

I can barely feel it. 

Over a millennia has passed since the fall of Camelot, and yet, I still remain.

My hold of this world is growing more tenuous with each day. 

My past and this present grow more muddled. The dreams never end. 

Who is calling to me? Why are they calling me? 

For what purpose do I still walk this lost land?[/i]

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[i]SHINING KNIGHT - FRAGMENT 1 - THE ONCE AND FUTURE KNIGHT

PIETY 1.1 [/i]
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Afternoon supper for Justin consists of a two-day old fish and chip butty from some crappy tuck shop down near the Thames and a flat beer in a styrofoam cup. His back is leaned against the wall of a suffocatingly close alleyway with a crowd of others like him. Sheets of gray drizzle swayed down from the ceiling of clouds as he tucked himself near to the alley wall to avoid getting drenched. Everyone aside from him was huddled next to a tiny radio as if it was a religious idol. 

Then, the voices came echoing in his mind again. First, it was a whisper so quiet that Justin might have mistook it for the wind. Then, it became relentless, pounding, a tirade of chaotic nonsense that he could barely decipher. 

“ -Justin -” 

“ Justin? - “ 

“ Justin, are you listening!?- “ 

“ No.” Justin dropped his cardboard bag and grabbed  his head, going into a feral position as his name worked into the back of his skull like an errant moth. “Not again, not again, not again….”

“ - Win the game - “ 

“ - Finish it -“

“ - Letting it get away! -“

“ What more do you want from me? “ Justin replied hoarsely, lame in defeat. “ Haven’t I given enough blood for my charges yet?”

“ - A most dishonourable act by-“

“ - Keep the ball dribbling -“

“- It isn’t over till it’s over.”

“ The world has more deserving knights now.” Justin gave a bitter chuckle as he stared at his distorted reflection in the puddle. “I’m just an old relic of the past. ”

“ You -“

“ - Swore at -“

“ - The King of -“
With a frustrated scream, Justin grabbed the garbage bin next to him, toppling it over with a kick before grabbing the lid and tossing it haphazardly into a brick wall. The thin lid splintered on impact as jagged pieces sank into the crumbled brick wall, littering the pavement with metallic shards. 

“ Arthur is dead! The Round Table is a pile of rotting wood! Stop pestering me with these ceaseless questions and just let me die! Just let me ….me….” 

His vision returned from the haze of red that he found himself to see a crowd of frightened eyes at the other side of the alley. They had all distanced themselves away from him during his breakdown. Justin found the situation darkly amusing. Being an outcast amongst the dredges of society was a new low that he didn’t think he could have sunk to. He took a step forward to offer some explanation or an apology but his mouth made no noise. A half-sob wrecked his lungs before he grabbed his soggy lunch off the asphalt and ran out of the alley into London’s rain-weathered traffic.

And the voices continued speaking.