It’s October the 31st, and I have had to spend an entire day being jolly about Halloween. I’m done now. Maybe it would have lasted a bit longer if there had been kids at the door dressed up demanding chocolate, but there weren’t. Possibly due to the rain, possibly due to the nap I took right after getting cosy on the sofa to write this while I waited.
In the evenings when Barny is out I only have the uplighter in the lounge on, so I can sit beneath it in plenty of energy saving fluorescence while the rest of the house sleeps. I tend not to put music on either, because I quite enjoying being able to hear the keys of the laptop tap away; the sound of getting things done. My little pool of silent light becomes everything until I hear the scrunch of the gravel on the gravel as Barny returns home.
I’m having an evening where I can’t settle into writing again, deleting sentences before I’ve finishing them and killing whole paragraphs in frustration. The clock is counting down the time until Barny’s return and I’ve still not managed to either buy a generator or get round to talking about the process. I put my hands down on the keyboard just now, flat, in an effort to focus my mind and realised that there is a nagging thought that is distracting the process. A muted scraping noise that seems to be coming from upstairs, probably next door.
I’m going to let it be. My little circle of light is fine down here, filling the room, although I’m only staring at the laptop, willing the words out one by one as the scraping noise nags. It’s frustrating having to wrestle a blog post onto the page, and the creaking of the rain, combined with the gentle shlick-shlick noise from above is more imposing than usual.
My mind is morbidly contemplating the creaks and taps, counting each one as part of the same tune, like a nursery rhyme. Sung without words in simple repetition my house is whispering through the turbulent night. The flickering lights on the hub, a sign that I am still connected to the world outside, seem to echo the song oddly too, but I don’t feel inclined to leave the safety of the sofa to cover them. I know that my mind is doing this on purpose, inventing an unknown that lies beyond my normal rationality. I don’t believe in any world but the tangible one, but I don’t enjoy being afraid.
Hopefully the gravel will crunch soon under the wheels of the car and the pressing feeling of a presence outside the window will pass. I could always check. I am within arms reach of the curtains and could tug them aside in a moment and see that there is nothing beyond but the sodium-lit darkness of the Leamington night.
A scraping has started beside my head, but I am certain it is the neighbours. I cannot picture what action would cause the noise, and it seems to be more by the window than in the house next door. The curtains are still closed, and there can’t be anything on the drive, I would have heard the gravel, so I’ll stay here and ignore it until it goes away.
I should cook some dinner, but the kitchen doesn’t have curtains, and looks out onto the garden. There won’t be anything there, but in my mind images of the dangling deceased swing slightly and drip in the rain. There is a single crunch of gavel, one foot jumping into the centre of the drive and nothing more. The noise could have been made by whatever is outside the window, but the curtain is still closed and the tapping continues.
I can still hear the house singing. Please Barny be quick.
Happy Halloween.
Leave a Reply