Jason Hill
speaker
612 appearances
1 recordings
1 series
first heard Jul 2026
last heard 5 Jul
Jason Hill’s voice in public audio — every appearance, attributed to the second.
Trend
recordings per month · last 12 monthsRecordings per month over the last 12 months — 1 in all, peaking in Jul 2026 with 1.
Appearances
I swallowed a poem full of colourful M&M's and chased them with a vodka on the rocks.
If I hadn't been a hardened drunk before Bucharest, I certainly was now.
The clock on the mantel joined the hour.
Above it, a mirror showed a middle-aged man in a wrinkled brown suit, with a tired face full of shadows and a thick, white scar across his throat.
I stared at myself for a moment longer.
Then, with a sweep of my arm, I hurled my empty tumbler at the mirror.
Glass flew.
A thin sliver sliced my cheek like a razor blade.
Blood oozed from the cut and crawled down a deep line at the corner of my mouth.
Sikelski's words came back to me then, as I dabbed at the cut with my handkerchief.
Blood is just a metaphor, Noah.
The alkahest of the abyss itself.
The blackest reaches that hide behind the veil of flesh.
I had another drink, or two, gave it ten more minutes before I lifted my cane off the table, got hold of my briefcase with the other hand, leaned weight on the cane, and stood up.
I limped out of the flat and made my way slowly down the hall, jabbing the cane into the burgundy fiber carpet.
The lift at the end of the hall was small and mirrored.
I rode it down to the lobby, studiously avoiding my reflection in the polished walls for fear of... fear of stirring up all manner of things best left alone.
I felt woozy and expansive from a lethal cocktail of booze and pills.
Perhaps that's why, when the lift doors opened, reality skipped a beat, and I found myself climbing the colonnaded steps of Copeland's front porch.
I jabbed at the doorbell until a waiter in a werewolf mask and white tuxedo admitted me.
Showing 541–560 of 612 · page 28 of 31
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