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.

So.

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.

 

Advertisements

About Alan

Alone in a sea of spinifex.
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

  2. Pingback: A History of Si Part 1 | Flitting Amongst The Swanplants

  3. Pingback: The Path | Flitting amongst the Swanplants

  4. Alan says:

    Feed my paranoia….

    Like

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

    Like

Please comment!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s