“So, what have we got in this bag here...”

The man who spoke watched avidly as another man, looking podgy in a chef’s outfit, tipped the plastic bag upside down on the table. Packets and plastic cases rolled off in all directions. From the background came a loud ‘Whoa!’, then laughing.

“We have,” the chef shouted, “An onion, a packet of minced beef, leeks, and a packet of castor sugar!”

The audience oohed, plunging into a silence as the chef explained what he wanted to make with it.

What is this crap? Infact, what are you looking at? What exactly is the point? The voice seemed annoyed, desperate to avert itself from the TV.

Jacob smiled, and replied happily,

It’s Chef of the Day. A cooking show, and if you don’t like it, why don’t you just go away, hmm?

I would if I could, I swear.

Oh? So why can’t you leave me Alone?

The voice stayed quiet, as if steaming with rage, and voiced very sternly,

I cannot exist here, and if it is at all I can only materialise in complete darkness. Which is why you have to and will help me, you stupid creature.

Jacob lost his focus at this, and looked to the television. He saw a dancing loaf of bread flash on the screen.

Aww, man! You made me miss the show! Stupid adverts...

He heard laughing, and frowned. Fine, I’ll just go play a game, he thought to himself.

You go and do that, came back to him, and his frown deepened.

He made his way out of the room, dodging the low coffee table with a manoeuvre that was obviously well practised, and walked up the stairs. He looked briefly at the pictures on the wall as he passed; he saw a small boy in an oversized shirt with a tall, dark haired woman, both smiling. Another showed a child’s party, the same boy, a little older, among others, bouncing on a red and gold castle. He smiled at them, for a moment reminded of these memories, and continued. He slammed purposefully into a door at the top, bursting through it into the room beyond.