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.