No longer interested in finding invisible felines, my attention concentrated on the horror writer: a beast of a man that stood over six-four and had a mass no less than three hundred pounds, perhaps almost four hundred pounds; I wasn’t sure. As he slowly, almost snail- or sloth-like, made his decline down the white-washed stairwell that led to the cobblestone walkway and skirted around the edifice, and to the grassy yard that spanned the fishing pond, I noted his long black coat (from his thick neck to pudgy ankles); its cuffs tight around his wrists, as well as the collar around his neck. He clicked a golden cane against the cobblestone, until exiting on the grass and headed toward the pond, making a slow trek around of the water. Sunglasses covered his eyes and what looked like an onyx b
