Liverpool up for sale and Torres is staying…for now!

Good morning!

You might think this in an unusual blog for first thing in the morning from a female writer of fantasy novels, but as I was tossing and turning last night, trying to sleep and squeeze the kaleidoscope of ideas for Equilibrium out of my head, it popped into my thoughts.

It’s probably a strange analogy, but can you imagine the red tide surging from Anfield should Liverpool finish in a similiar position to last season and win nothing again? It would be akin to Jessie’s first kill:


I’ll never forget the look in my first victim’s eyes as he was dragged from the car and placed on soiled knees before me.

If he’d have been a man of God (and even though he wasn’t, I’m sure he was praying to whomever he considered his saviour to be, because his lips were moving, bumbling nonsense) he would have just looked like he was begging forgiveness.

Confusion, absolute terror and realisation reigned in eyes that looked up at me from above the dirty rag that Leif had bundled in his mouth to prevent his screams from being heard.

 Realisation that he was finally going to pay for all the wrong he’d done was the thing that shone the brightest as I walked around him, grabbing a handful of greasy hair and yanking his head back, forced him to look up at me.
 I battled with intense emotions of guilt and fear that began to fuse slowly into a feeling of atonement; justice as I clamped his head between my quaking knees.

The thing I remember most vividly is the glint of icy moonlight on the blade as I placed it to his skin.

In that brief moment, a revealing light reflected all his sins and the retribution I was about to prevail upon him; you could say it balanced things out.

As blood pounded in my ears and I swallowed hard, I saw a brief flash of evil hiding beneath the horror in his eyes, lurking behind the foreign dread he was experiencing now.

It made it all the easier for me to smile down at him and say, “Goodbye James Lister and fucking good riddance! Your creator awaits, whoever he may be.” 

With a swift draw of the knife, I released a river of tainted blood and threw him face down into it, finally drowning him in his own depravity, it was the last thing he tasted before hurtling into an eternal world of darkness, metallic medicine of his own recipe.


OK, so I know the crimson flow (of both players and fans alike) exiting the gates of the Kop at the end of this season is hardly a comparison, but it’s strange what crawls into a tired mind in the middle of the night…. 😉

Saffy. xx


Writer, dreamer, pantser.

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