Peripheral Vision

They are watching me again.

I see them furtively peering out from the bushes, changing shape and freezing motionless when I look their way. I see them watching me.   Perhaps I am becoming more observant.  My interest in the local fauna makes me so.  In any case, it seems some of them don’t even make a great effort to hide any more.  As if they know I know they are there.   They just slide back into obscurity in some unexplainable way but I see their jeering smiles reluctantly follow them.  Charles Dodgson must have seen them too them too, in his day.  He described them perfectly.


Something is going to happen.  I can feel it.  Something always happens when they increase their surveillance.  Something always happens if I notice them.  What will it be this time?

I have remembered something.  I have something I must remember.  There is always something I must remember.  But I can’t remember what.  Yet.

Why did I say “always”?

When I was very young, my invisible friend told me something important.  Then he told me to forget it until I needed to remember it.  I remember asking how I could remember something I had forgotten.  He said it was like feeling a marble in your pocket.  You will know exactly what it is, and what to do with it.  “How will I know when to feel for it in the pocket of my mind?” I asked.   How do I remember that now after all these years?

He gave me a strange smile and said I would know the time was right when I recalled who he was.  And that was when I forgot his name.  I even forgot about him entirely until I heard my mum telling someone about my imagination, and how I held up a bus once until my invisible friend got on.  I had made the conductor hold up the bus until he joined us.  People thought it was just a cute story about a little boy with a big imagination.  I have a vague feeling it was actually something quite serious.  If he had not got on the bus, something would have happened.  Like something is going to happen soon.

Later, when I was older, I used to ask my mother “What was the name of the invisible friend I had when I was small?”  She would tell me, and I would immediately forget it again.

Now it comes to me.

It was Wayland.  I called him Mr Wayland.  And there is something else.  Something he only told me before he went away.  He said he was my great-grandfather.   But how could that be?

I am pretty sure he was one of them.



About Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
This entry was posted in Life, don't talk to me about life!. Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Peripheral Vision

  1. Pingback: A History of Si Part 2 – The Nature of the Universe | Flitting Amongst The Swanplants

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  4. Alan says:

    Feed my paranoia….


  5. We are severally them and we are all watching you.


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