Twilight of the Dawn – Koontz, Dean

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TWILIGHT OF THE DAWN By Dean R. Koontz SOMETIMES YOU CAN BE THE BIGGEST

JACKASS WHO EVER LIVED,” MY wife said the night that I took Santa Claus away

from my son. We were in bed, but she was clearly not in the mood for either

sleep or romance. Her voice was sharp, scornful. “What a terrible thing to

do to a little boy.” “He’s seven years old-” “He’s a little boy,” Ellen said harshly, though we rarely spoke to each other in anger. For the most part

ours was a happy, peaceful marriage. We lay in silence. The drapes were

drawn back from the French doors that opened onto the second-floor balcony, so

the bedroom was limned by ash-pale moonlight. Even in that dim glow, even

though Ellen was cloaked in blankets, her anger was apparent in the tense,

angular position in which she pretended to seek sleep. Finally she said,

“Pete, you used a sledgehammer to shatter a little boy’s fragile fantasy, a

harmless fantasy, all because of your obsession with-” “It wasn’t

harmless,” I said patiently. “And I don’t have an obsession.” “Yes, you

do,” she insisted. “I simply believe in rational-” “Oh, shut up.”