My name is Jonathan Ernest Welker and I am 64 years of age. I was once one of the best detectives in the county, until a tragic injury left me in a wheelchair.
The storm has been growing in size all day, the thunder claps growing louder by the hour. The rain coming down in torrential sheets, pounding against the windows and effectively trapping me indoors.
It has been hours since I last had power. The winds and lightening must have knocked out a transistor and I imagine it will be some time before any maintenance crews brave the storm.
The flicker from my candles, in my living room, were of a warm glow, faintly lighting the surroundings and casting shadows on the wall. The light that does shine on the walls, displaying the pictures which hang upon them; some of loved ones and others of friends all who have gone. With the flicker of the candle light my weak eyes can barely see the look of my worn furniture as I can only make out the outline of them.
My tea - now cold in its cup - is on the dark wooden side table which is to the right hand side of my jade green armchair. It stands alone, just like me. And that’s perfect, just perfect.
So you might be questioning, why am I so alone? Or even how I ended up in this wheelchair? Well I will tell you.