Andrew
Andrew Shadows were beginning to creep across the slope of the promontory where Andrew's remains rested at the summit. At the witching hour, every day except Saturdays, Andrew would emerge from his mausoleum and wander around the grounds, hoping to find someone to talk to. Mission impossible. Yet that evening, the faint light of dusk revealed a rather strange silhouette slowly crossing the path towards the mausoleum, then moving away, following the last traces of the sun. Andrew hurried to attract its attention. He shouted, but suddenly remembered that he no longer needed to breathe and that, without air, he could not shout either. He quickened his pace to approach the visitor. Then he remembered that he could move instantaneously. And the moment he thought of it, he appeared right in front of the strange silhouette. His astonishment was immense: the features he could make out in that shadowy figure were his own. But the silhouette was even more startled. It gave a sudden jump an...