In the back seat of a taxi, the town stretches before us. In the dark of night, thousands of lights shimmer so pretty but not the stars, as they’re hidden by unseen clouds. Storm clouds to be precise. There’s the odd rumble of thunder and the occasional lightning bolt in the distance. Scanning the landscape as we descend the peak of the hill that watches over everything in a ten-mile radius, a burst of white light illuminates the vehicle and causes the driver to stop. Blinking madly, my sight returns. On the horizon, several lightning bolts hit the ground in quick succession, and then, right at the end, a fork of electricity that strikes with such power that it feels like an earthquake has struck. Straining my eyes, I can see a wall of debris growing in height that’s racing towards us as if a bomb has just gone off. Within a few seconds, it’s on the verge of swallowing all in its path, and all I can think before it does is that it looks so beautiful. An unknown period of time later, and I’m walking through a field that leads to woodland that leads to a field again. This keeps on happening. I’m with someone, but I’m not sure who. Drinking from a flask, the whisky burns my stomach and I’m wondering why I’m drinking it because I don’t even like whisky but it doesn’t seem important. Coming to a clearing, the trees make way for a tower. Craning my neck, the tower goes all the way into the sky; so much so that it disappears into the clouds before I can see to the top. It’s reminiscent of one of the Twin Towers, but it’s a bit slimmer. In fact, it’s more like The Dark Tower that Stephen King wrote about. Made from concrete, the entire structure is covered with vines and ivy, and although the structure has windows, they’re all but obscured. Coming from within, music drifts to my ears, but it’s so faint that it must be emanating from high above ground level, and although I can’t prove it, someone is watching me from inside. What is the purpose of the tower? How high up does it go? I don’t have the answers, but as I move closer having emptied the flask of whatever whisky is left, I feel something in my bones that I haven’t felt in years.