Skip to main content

Behind You Something Stands

Behind you something stands.

Whilst you are reading these words you are not paying attention to what is going on around you. Someone or something could be and probably is standing behind you or in front of you and you wouldn’t notice. Your gaze is on this page, your attention is on this page, reading these words. In some corner somewhere near you a threat to your safety is lurking. While you are focussed on this page plans are being made to harm you in some way. Those plans may take fruition when your regard is on these words that are holding your attention. These words are holding you rapt and vulnerable to harm. At night the risks are greater to you, for there are now darkened places, shadows, for them to hide waiting to strike. In a place well known to you a spirit lurks that means you harm. They will be sharp of tooth and claw and waiting for your attention to wane from thinking that they are there.  They are there, do not doubt that for one moment. No one knows what they look like as they assume a familiar thing and different guises and so many disguises in order to trick you. They will do so to lull you into a false sense of security and safety. Then they will strike. Of course you can look up from these words to check behind yourself every so often, every minute in fact. But they will move, they will shape shift. They will disappear and reappear, playing games with your senses and fears. They will smell and taste your fear.  You may be at home you may be at work but that doesn’t stop them. Nothing and no-one can stop them from harming you.
Now how safe do you feel while reading these words?

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Protein Man of Oxford Street- Stanley Owen Green.

I wrote this Obituary piece for The Guardian about Stanley Green while I was an undergraduate at Goldsmiths' College.  I contacted The Guardian and asked them if I could submit it for publication. It was sent off to them and I waited in eager anticipation for their reply. It was published on Wednesday January 26th 1994,   the Editor  made no changes or additions except by adding some photographs (the photographs used here are later additions by me): "A Consuming Passion.... Stanley Owen Green who has died aged aged 78, was that tall thin man with steel-rimmed glasses who marched it seemed for an eternity up and down London's Oxford Street. It was his banner that made him famous, held high above his head and proclaiming "LESS LUST FROM PROTEIN" in large white letters. Underneath the banner he endured the taunts of sticky schoolchildren and the spittle of office workers alike, to bring his unique, indeed puzzling message to the people of London. He later wate...
3 comments
Read more

The Roswell Returns

“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” As those words echoed around Mission Control in Houston a round of spontaneous applause broke out across the site and in the control room. There were yelps and hollers of triumph echoing around the whole of NASA that momentous day in July 1969. In the Command Module Michael Collins was monitoring the vital controls that kept it orbiting the Moon. He flipped the carbon dioxide uptake switch, looked at the battery charge meters, oxygen levels and closely watched the radar screen. He sat back in his flight chair and watched the instrumentation flick and whirr. He daren’t relax, he didn’t relax at all. He paid great attention to the radar screen as he was commanded to. He had to monitor it for spooks, intruders or ghosts. He knew he was looking for Foo Fighters. They did show up on radar, aircrews had confirmed that as fact. It was how fast they appeared and disappeared that threw most pilots. There had been warnings by the ...
Post a Comment
Read more

At War with the Invisible: The Deadly Miasma

The Reverend Henry Whitehead said a short and mumbled prayer over the body of John James Morters and quickly re-covered his own nose and mouth with a scented hankie. He turned and nodded to the undertakers. They took the shrouded body and half threw it into the waiting cart. They didn’t want to hang around in a cholera house; neither did the Reverend. He had attended a few such deaths recently. He thought there were far too many deaths. He walked out into the stench filled air of Soho’s Broad Street, took a short breath and covered his face again. The undertaker coughed and forcefully spat out a gobbet of phlegm, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at the Reverend, ‘’Pologies Sir. It’ll be the stink what gets ‘em too Sir. Taken a few from round ‘ere.’ ‘I don’t subscribe to the theory of bad air my good man. It may stink but it carries no disease.’ ‘That’s as well as like Sir. But we seen ‘em all off. Usually from places such as this stinking hole.’ ‘Have you had m...
1 comment
Read more