Sentence The Fivehundredandninetynineth

 'In answer to your question,' Tavish read when he unrolled the scrap of paper, 'my name is Levy Balquhidder and I am the son of your nephew and niece, Rary and Rilla; if you have read this so far, stick your finger into the Moth Hole,' so Tavish did, just squeezing the tip of his finger through and – it was like an electric shock when he felt the tip of a small finger touch his; he pulled his out and

examined it, there was a slight redness, like a burn from a cigarette. he tried again and felt two things, the small finger and another rolled slip of paper; he eased this out and read it: 'believe me now? I didn't know if it would be a two-way channel, but it is; don't waste time with long narratives, tell me where you are, who is with you, where you are going, and something that only Tea Spoons and Jam Jar would know; they have worked out that you have a conduit and this may be the best time to give them some answers, Hasta La Vista, Baby!' and as he read this Tavish sat back and stared at the scrap, the last words of which were his twin, Pherson's standard sign-off: could this be Pherson? surely not, and he thought of Rilla and Rary: they had been expecting a baby around the time that he went into or came out of The Cavern, OMG! how old would the baby be now? 9 months? was it possible? for a baby to be so developed? never, but it might be Pherson alright! was he spavined, maybe even delirious – this emotional roller-coaster was too much for him; there was something mythopoeic going on, or he was losing his grip on reality, sitting here like a patroon back from the New World observing the archaism of the Old: and at the risk of being a platitudinarian, he wanted to roar: "humbug!" but hist! a message for Jam Jar and Tea Spoons? something they will know came from him, and something Pherson would be ignorant off: he began do delve in the gallimaufry of his past and his most secret dealings – something which, if this is Pherson at the other end of the Moth Hole, wont cause any damage: he had an image of an occasion in the nosocomial setting of an Emergency Room in a war-torn Middle Eastern city and of a woman with a cordate face, perfectly heart-shaped and that was when he remembered it all with an absolute clarity and certainty that this was what it had to be!