The Devils of Loudon
There are moments in life when, despite your best efforts, the 21st century abandons you and you are hovering on the outskirts of Salem, with possibly a light dusting of Loudon in the offing. Thursday night offered just such a moment!
Standing on the edge of a wood in total darkness, trying to locate two small terriers whose frantic yelps confirm that they are underground but that they now wish to return to the security of hearth and home if they could but locate the exit to the warren, it is hard to prevent your brain summoning memories of every horror film you've ever seen.
A fox shrieks close at hand. As your blood pressure spikes you attempt to reassure yourself that it is their mating season and its merely a sex mad vixen not an sex mad Jack Nicholson look alike axe murderer who is rustling in the ditch. Never before have you appreciated the electric shock effect of the warning cry of a pheasant or the human nature of a sheep coughing. The shriek of the owls barely merits a mention.
There should be a full moon but oh no, tonight coincides with the only full lunar eclipse this century! That could be a relief as I am by now fully expecting to see a broomstick shadow pass before it. You can definitely hear panting, the back of your neck genuinely prickles and a full blown 'peasant from the middle ages' type fear grips you. To hell with the bloody dogs! You stop breathing as a small, muddy, furry and ultimately familiar object hurtles towards you.
As you regain the security of the house, a spineless shadow of your normal self, you discover that another shamefaced little bitch has beaten you back and you have never before called her that with such fervour.
Standing on the edge of a wood in total darkness, trying to locate two small terriers whose frantic yelps confirm that they are underground but that they now wish to return to the security of hearth and home if they could but locate the exit to the warren, it is hard to prevent your brain summoning memories of every horror film you've ever seen.
A fox shrieks close at hand. As your blood pressure spikes you attempt to reassure yourself that it is their mating season and its merely a sex mad vixen not an sex mad Jack Nicholson look alike axe murderer who is rustling in the ditch. Never before have you appreciated the electric shock effect of the warning cry of a pheasant or the human nature of a sheep coughing. The shriek of the owls barely merits a mention.
There should be a full moon but oh no, tonight coincides with the only full lunar eclipse this century! That could be a relief as I am by now fully expecting to see a broomstick shadow pass before it. You can definitely hear panting, the back of your neck genuinely prickles and a full blown 'peasant from the middle ages' type fear grips you. To hell with the bloody dogs! You stop breathing as a small, muddy, furry and ultimately familiar object hurtles towards you.
As you regain the security of the house, a spineless shadow of your normal self, you discover that another shamefaced little bitch has beaten you back and you have never before called her that with such fervour.
posted by Diary Cow at 5:57 am
1 Comments:
Thank God you never watched "The Blair Witch Project" You would have run so fast your shoes would be smoking.
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