Once upon a lonely time, The Sceptic woke from a nightmare; he then walked over to the mirror, brushed his hair, looked up, looked down and then walked back to his bed. The Sceptic from his bed wondered why he had been a sceptic for so long. Why was he not frightened of the moving light bulb that flickered for no reason at all in the middle of the night? The Sceptic was not afraid, just afraid of being a sceptic. This was the only thing that kept him awake…not the flickering light, not the image that looked back at him from his mirror in his breathless room, not the sound of a machine somewhere far away. Just being was painful enough with the realisation that one day all this could end. The Sceptic did not look at life the way the scared screaming innocent man looked at life. He had no reason to because he was the Sceptic. The Sceptic was lost. The Sceptic was once again no more. The Sceptic slept soundly without fear. To marrow! Barked the dog with his bone.