he wasn't scrubbing my back
Day Eleven:
Once upon a time there was a man who showered. Not a strange behaviour as we all do but with every moment of bathing he had the feeling of being watched. But who could see him? Who would want to? It should be dismissed he thought.Yes, it is nothing. Or so he thought.
If there's nothing there then there should be no fear at turning round. No fear, no terror, no mounting moments of terror growing ever stronger as a cold shiver runs down his back that not even the most scolding of water could bring warmth to. It's nothing though, just a draught. But what if? And tentatively, all the time repeating "It's nothing" he turns round.
It was not nothing.
To be faced with a spectral spirit is one thing. To be confronted by one with your own face is all the more petrifying. The ghost of a thousand thoughts. Of the repressed anger that dissipates as soon as you step out the shower and the first foot touches the floor. The scrutinising of every conversation and the wish you'd said something when you were in the moment. All these things that you want to have done but they died when you abandoned them. But at the back of your mind they will always haunt you.
And he did not live happily ever after but he did start taking baths instead.
he wasn't scrubbing my back
Day Eleven:
Once upon a time there was a man who showered. Not a strange behaviour as we all do but with every moment of bathing he had the feeling of being watched. But who could see him? Who would want to? It should be dismissed he thought.Yes, it is nothing. Or so he thought.
If there's nothing there then there should be no fear at turning round. No fear, no terror, no mounting moments of terror growing ever stronger as a cold shiver runs down his back that not even the most scolding of water could bring warmth to. It's nothing though, just a draught. But what if? And tentatively, all the time repeating "It's nothing" he turns round.
It was not nothing.
To be faced with a spectral spirit is one thing. To be confronted by one with your own face is all the more petrifying. The ghost of a thousand thoughts. Of the repressed anger that dissipates as soon as you step out the shower and the first foot touches the floor. The scrutinising of every conversation and the wish you'd said something when you were in the moment. All these things that you want to have done but they died when you abandoned them. But at the back of your mind they will always haunt you.
And he did not live happily ever after but he did start taking baths instead.