Behind The Horned Mask
A Novel by Jeff Vrolyks
Copyright 2014 Jeff Vrolyks
Let me begin by stating that I am not a writer—a conclusion you’d have arrived at on your own soon enough. I know no tricks of narrative nor do I have an extensive vocabulary, but I do know an editor (wink). I once lost a spelling bee trying to spell vakation. Writing isn’t my thing. Policing is. But when Norrah and I debated which of us should put this thing into words, her persistency in it being me won her the day. We haven’t put much thought into what might become of these pages, if anything, but we both agreed the events of late needed to be put on paper, and we’ll let fate or destiny take it from there. I should add that I have spoken with a couple others, and they agreed to write some things regarding this ordeal as well. To what extent I’m unsure of at this moment. So it looks like this is going to be a collective effort. I have the honor of leading off. And probably wrapping it up.
You probably don’t know me, so let me introduce myself as Jay Davis. Having been in the Marines before becoming a cop, I have long been accustomed to being called Davis, not Jay. Cops and military folks insist on calling people by their surnames, and I’d love to know why. For a while they were calling me J.D., but it didn’t stick, didn’t grow legs. Norrah calls me Jay unless she’s feeling particularly feisty or when I’ve gotten into some kind of shit.