Brighton, a city on the south coast of England, December 2004

I'm writing this story as a result of a pact I made with a goblin ghoul last night as I was walking home up the hill near Withdean in Brighton. Every part of it is true and exactly how I remember, though the events of last night now seem like they happened in another world. As I look at these words it seems strange that I could be writing them. Who will believe what I have to say?