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Thursday, 15 March 2012

Difficult dark dangerous drinking

I feel that, after yesterdays account of the incident in a nameless Hampshire village just outside Winchester, I need to expand on some of the characters with whom I have spent some time in the past fifteen months or so. Since I left the world of the normal and mundane behind and thrown my lot in with those who are differently normal I have been of a definite transient nature, flitting from town to town, city to city and couch to couch. I understand there are still some members who were associated with the Flower's Barrow project who would welcome the opportunity to discuss the whereabouts of a certain memory stick and there are definitely those from another, otherworld, organisation who wish to use my talent for their own nefarious ends and as such it has been in my best interests to keep moving. As mentioned yesterday; hovering on the edges of a society that itself clings to the precipitous fringes of what is perceived as normal brings problems, I stand out and attract attention if, and when, I react to those that have thus far managed to remain hidden and secret.

Some time ago I was introduced, by the woman I will still refer to as 'Sue' to a small group of otherworld beings. They were, and still are, warm and welcoming and have helped me enormously. They are all many generations away from the pure entities that have 'tainted' their blood but most still retained various distinctive talents setting them apart from the rest of humanity. Patrick in particular has been a very good friend, supportive and present throughout my early days and ever present to save my miserable skin when naively placing myself in unnecessary peril. A mutual friend, Paul asked me to move in with them fifteen months ago which probably saved my sanity after the natural breakdown of my marriage. I stayed at their flat rent free until I managed to get a cash in hand labouring job in order to pay my way. During these difficult few months I learned to refrain from questioning my new friends about their particular backgrounds and talents, I did on two occasions and was completely ignored. When I earned sufficient trust Paul and Pat related their stories, which I may go into at a later date in the past year they have been both my guardians and teachers to the new world that had been revealed to me.

To illustrate my vulnerability and indeed the vulnerability of most of the population I'll tell you about an incident that happened not long after I moved in with Paul and Patrick. Sue, unfortunately had moved away from Portsmouth not too long after I had taken up residence with our friends and I was at a bit of a loose end. One cold Friday night, a couple of weeks before Christmas, Patrick took pity on me suggesting that we have a few beers in town, eventually we opted for Southsea. This close to the festive season the seafront and surrounding locale were swamped with revellers, even at an early hour, just after seven, the streets were full of groups of twenty-somethings, the women wearing very little and raucous; the men loud and brash. Later these groups would intermingle, clash and combine one way or another. There was an edge of violence in the air, a feeling of underlying hostility. even from the women. The shadows were also out in force, swooping and flitting through the groups with obvious enthusiasm and glee. With so many potential victims I already knew that the night would end badly for some of these unsuspecting merry-makers. Two blokes out drinking, especially as the night was still young, would seldom draw attention from fellow revellers but we did draw as much attention as the others in the street from the shadow beings, at this time I hadn't learned to filter my vision regarding other-worldy beings and as such was forced to endure the sight of these entities belligerently swarming around around the streets. One swooped close to me and I flinched, it seemed to pause, hovering in the air almost as though affronted and annoyed at me being able to see it. The dark formless shade shot into the air where it disappeared into the darkness above the street lamps and bright lights of the pubs and clubs.

Patrick and I sidled our way past a pair of enormous doorman into a pub, the crowd inside was busy but it was still possible to read the bar relatively easily. I don't know what made me turn but as Pat made his way to a vacant space at the bar I turned in time to see a group of perhaps five or six shadowy forms drift past the bouncers and into the pub. Th lead wraith swept between my legs and disappeared with its companions into the crowd of drinkers. Pat was attempting to attract my attention but his voice was drowned out by the unmistakeable vocals of Noddy Holder blasting throughout the interior of the pub. The shades were clustered around a small grow of young lads, they were very drunk and it was obvious that they had been on the piss for most of the day. One lad in particular was getting louder and louder, then something happened that I will never forget. The raucous youth was just tilting his head back and was beginning an irritating football chant when he stopped, I saw the final dark tendrils of a shadowy entity disappear into his nose, ears and mouth. His friends failed to notice but I could see his face take on a momentary pained expression then soften. He slowly turned to face me, his face split into a wide, leering and unmistakably evil grin, our eyes met and I saw murder in his eyes. I felt transfixed, unable to look away and rooted to the spot. With his friends involved in their own petty drunken ramblings he started walking towards me, gently pushing his way between the patrons standing between us. He was only a few metres away when he shoved a tall, well built man sufficiently to cause a minor spillage from his beer glass.

'Watch your step fucknuts.' The enraged man snapped looking down at the dark stain on his white England football shirt. The blank faced youth seemed not to notice and attempted to push past. The anger in the affronted drinker visibly grew. He pushed the possessed man hard in the shoulder.

'I'm taking to you dickhead,' he shouted, the buzz of conversation stopped in the area around us leaving Noddy's voice to boom over the growing scene.

Without breaking his gaze, which was still disconcertingly directed straight at me, he slowly raised his half full glass to shoulder height, then rapidly thrust it into the face of his taller adversary. The close proximity ensured that I saw and heard every splinter and slice as the glass broke, shattered and cut through the unresisting flesh of his victims face. The tableau passed in slow motion, as if the actors moved in deep water, the makeshift weapon splintered on cheekbones and eye ridges creating razor sharp edges that cut into lips and burst eyeballs. The victims hands instinctively rose to cover and protect his ruined face but could not stem the spurts and gushes of bright crimson as he sank to his knees. For a second everything froze, then the screaming and retaliation began. Three of the victims friends leapt onto the assailant beating him to the ground and mercilessly stamped, punched and pounded on his body. He offered no resistance but instead stared up at me with a slight smile.

The attack was relentless, I heard bones break, ribs, arms and finally a massive crack as one youth, his face crimson with rage brought the heel of his boot down hard on his jaw. At that point, almost as though the vessel had been damaged beyond usefulness, the oily black form of the wraith leeched from the ruined body of its host and coalesced close above my head. The screams, already so loud and overpowering were joined by the high pitched keening and disturbing wail of the prone figure as he all too quickly regained awareness. His attackers, unaware of what had just transpired, continued their merciless and brutal bludgeoning until two burly, suited doormen appeared to grab all concerned and drag them towards the exit. The music died but the screaming continued, the shadow shook almost as though it was laughing, then shot up through the ceiling followed by his fellows and was lost to sight.

I found myself being pushed back as the crowd, closed in the wake of the ejected thugs to take in the gory spectacle of the bleeding, sobbing mounds of bloody flesh that were left behind. I felt detached, isolated from the proceedings but was dragged back to the reality of the here and now as I felt a vice-like hand close its grip on my wrist.

'Tom, we are leaving,' hissed Patrick as he waded through the press of humanity dragging me like a tethered balloon.

That night showed me what it was to stand out, what it meant to announce my ability to see the otherworldly entities and above all what the consequences might be. That night Patrick told me his story, but I won't go into that now.

I have now had three days of peace and tranquility, so much so that I can continue my blogging but I have no idea how long it will last.

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