‘The Night Walker'

Can you see it? What! You can't? It's right there, in front of you, there. Come on try harder, concentrate. If you look closely you'll just make out the moonlight breaking through the branches, casting shadows. Don't concentrate on the darkness, look for the light. If you stare long enough you will see it twitch, there, yes you saw it. I knew you would eventually. Now look for all the little bits of light and gradually you will be able to make out the trees in the darkness, the long slender trunks and then the multi-layered patchwork of leaves. You might even be able to see a hint of green where the moonlight hits the leaf in just the right place. Can you see? Really?

I don't think you should go into the wood now. You can go in the morning. No, I know I can't stop you. Yes, yes, I know it's your decision. I just thought I'd let you know my opinion; it might be dangerous that's all. You don't care? I thought you might say that, you are so predictable. Let's go then.

You are almost at the mouth of the wood now; I can hear your feet crushing the crisp autumnal leaves. The sound reminds me of a crackling fire. What was that? That, over there! No, I don't think it was an owl. That would be too obvious, have some imagination. A snake? No. A monkey, yes a monkey. I know it's unlikely but things like that happen here. It's sitting up there in that tree, with large inquisitive eyes, its teeth glowing on and off as it occasionally grins under the moonlight. It's staring at you, it wants to know what you are doing here, you are a stranger. Don't move. If you do you will be seen as a threat and it will pounce. Can you hear the slight squeak of its claws on the wood as it shifts its weight? Can you see its shimmering fur? Wait it's moving, it's bored of you now. The trees are bending and creaking as it leaps from one to another. I think it's safe to move on now.

We've come to the river. Well, where the river used to be. Here water once rushed at such a speed and made such a thundering din that all the rest of the forest was drowned out. It was the centre of all forest life, where the animals washed, drank and fed. Now it has dried up, years of searing sun has sucked up all moisture and has left a barren valley of dried earth. The mud has cracks so deep; they look as though they may lead to other lands. All is silent here now.

We can cross by this bridge. We'll have to go over on our hands and knees as parts of the bridge are broken and we can't see in this gloom. You go first. Feel the rough wood under your finger tips; think how many feet have trodden on it over the years. Feel for the gaps, the sudden cool rush of air bursting up to meet you, the lurch of your stomach as you lose your hand momentarily. Don't let it scare you, keep moving. I'm right behind you; can you hear my deep heavy breathes? Or maybe that other noise just behind us, or is it in front? It's a low humming noise, barely audible because of the depth of its tone, but you know it's there, it's unavoidable.

Oh, I understand now. That's what you're looking for; the source of the noise. The constant vibration which haunts your dreams and disrupts your working day.

You can stand now, we have reached the end of the bridge, it is safe to walk. Calm down, you are becoming frenzied now. It is too dangerous to carry on at this pace. The trees issue a gasp each time you barely miss them.

There is a rhythm to this noise; it is constant and repetitive, a long drawn out heart beat. If you close your eyes and concentrate you can feel it rumble through your feet and rise up through your body. It infects you and threatens to take over and change your heart's rhythm and disrupt the music of your mind.

The noise is controlling the beat of your steps. It is impossible to move outside of it. No matter how fast or how slow you move the rhythm moves with you, it has you in it's grasp.

Do you really believe going to the source will help you? The closer you go the more it reaches inside you. It draws you closer, as though from a fish line lodged in you heart. It takes hold of your very soul and doesn't let go.

There it is! The source of all imagination and inspiration. The ultimate muse. A gigantic mass of life, love and emotions. It spews out adoration, hate, happiness, misery and all the emotions in between. It contains all dreams and fantasies from the elaborate to the mundane. It is both hot and cold. All the colours of the world are visible from it's core to it's multifaceted surface. It is furry, smooth, rough, soft, jagged, spongy and hard. Inside is everyone you have ever known, and everyone you haven't. It contains whole oceans and continents and that beautiful butterfly with the bright blue wings that you saw when you were ten.

Reach out, touch it. Slowly. Take a handful, not too much, be careful, this stuff is precious.

So now you have got what you came for, it's up to you now what you do with it. It is time for me to leave you. You do know your way home don't you?