It didn’t glance back, but stepped with cruel ease into the no-man’s-land between solidity and nothingness. Gentle refused to look away but stared on with steadfastness more defiant than heroic. The place was well named. As the mystif walked it was erased, like a sketch that had served it’s Creator’s purpose and was no longer needed on the page. But unlike the sketch, which however fastidiously erased always left some trace to mark the artist’s error, when Pie finally disappeared the vanishing was complete, leaving the spot flawless. If Gentle had not had the mystif in his memory- that unreliable book – it might never have existed.