11-30-2024, 01:29 PM
This post was last modified 12-03-2024, 09:06 AM by Maxmars. Edited 1 time in total.
Edit Reason: added content
[Author's note: This story continues from...,
Part 1: https://denyignorance.com/Thread-We-re-just-Different
Part 2: https://denyignorance.com/Thread-Don-t-go-looking]
He had to explain the whole deal... and in front of his wife, who he thought never really wanted to hear this stuff as it unnerved her... Under any other circumstances, he would never have this conversation... never want to be associated with the tropes and memes of the modern world applies to such things. While his daughter has actually seen the horror at the window, his wife never had such an experience... but she loved him enough to 'let it be' and he loved her enough not to subject her to the discomfort of what he said he knew because he had seen it.
Whether the daughter could truly understand was a serious concern for him. He believed that he had been lucky not to have been hurt by these apparitions... and he wondered if telling her might only increase the danger for her. He seemed sure that he wasn't really up to the task of mentoring anyone in this... he still had a million questions to answer, a million mysteries to be unraveled.
Where to start, where to start?
He had begun to believe that talking about this was like igniting a kleig light waving in the night sky. (Hell, he was wondering if even thinking about it wasn't dangerous.) He hadn't 'rehearsed' the explanation, as he had done with so many other ideas. This was to be an 'on-the-fly' explanation... one that he cannot allow to be misunderstood.
"These creatures are real" he said, realizing that he was repeating himself. It was a kind of reminder for his daughter that they were talking about something Mom has never seen. He gauged the look on his daughters face, the hint of an eyeroll... "Move on..." it meant.
"Fine!" he said abruptly, giving into the unspoken objection... "Look, I don't really know exactly what this thing is. I've read a lot of gobbledygook about it... there are somethings that fit... I've looked into it from a religious context... even a spiritual context... and some of that seems romanticized or made to conform with some narrative or other. But most everything I see written about doesn't feel complete. It missed the feeling accompanying the sight, the sense they seem to carry around with them, the sheer resentment I feel whenever they notice I see them. Like my seeing them was somehow 'rude.'"
He thought intrusively, "I have to hurry this up... the longer we talk about it, the more likely they'll smell it."
He continued, "Most of them are keen to jump scare you... as if that was somehow 'good' for them... and if you don't let the pang of surprise turn into a ringing fear... they get frustrated... quickly. I think they like to eat fear," he paused "... and what's more, they can eat sorrow, and anger, and who knows what else."
His daughter was bursting at the seams... "But what do they do, Dad, how do they hurt us?" "What can we do to stop them? Can we fight them? Can we make them leave us alone?"
This was the worst. He had no special answers that he could give her. No "Just do this" or "You can always..." advice he could deliver. It was like explaining to your children we are essentially weaklings, who can only endure abuse, and never end it with a silver bullet. Also, he was haunted by the idea that the more you think about it, the more likely you are 'shining' in the 'dark' like a feeble candle waiting to be blown out.
"I don't think they can kill us, or directly hurt us physically... maybe... but I've seen them affect people... sometimes in ugly ways."
She was his wife's daughter though... always thinking... she said "We should confront it, make it go away at least... we can't let that thing wander around here..." This was a zinger to hm... he had thought that himself, many times... but knew as well that non-confrontation was safety. He had also determined that they don't exactly get a jump scare when seen... they had to 'notice' him seeing...
Many time they had 'wandered off' as the daughter had presciently suggested... not once realizing (at least apparently) that someone was seeing them. But the thought of actually confronting one on purpose was chilling.
"I don't want to confront it... eventually, it will go away. I know it is there, and that's enough."
His wife was looking at him... in no special way, but he knew it was meant to convey "We need to talk."
"You have dishes kiddo!" he abruptly interjected... and added, "when your done we'll talk more..." His daughter had that "I hate not being an adult" look about her. "I promise." he added feeling merciful... his daughter no doubt felt is was in part cruelty. "Ugh!" She intoned, smartly gathering some dishes and huffing loudly.
In the bedroom, he met his wife... as if compelled by prophecy she said, "We need to talk."
"I know." he responded... projecting his own discomfort with this new responsibility. He really didn't want to talk about this...
And then it dawned to him... there might be something he can do...
Hunting this thing was a daunting idea. There really was no point in trying since they were so few, and so elusive that it would be like trying to hunt for a shooting star before you see it. But he could draw it in... he knew how to do it... it was relatively easy if his 'theory' was right.
His wife interrupted his thoughts, "You've done more than see these things, haven't you?"
"Not on purpose." he replied, it sounded defensive.
"OK, on accident." she amended, "Well then... is this a dangerous thing or not?"
"I can handle it!" he offered back. She was ready... "This isn't about you handling it, it's about her!"
His shoulders sunk, almost ashamed, he conceded, "I know... I may have to break my own rules now."
His wife was not fully engaged as a mother... "That girl wants to be a courageous as you! You know where that leads."
He looked at her. "Ignorance often masquerades as courage." he announced.
"What the hell!? Not now," she said, "Your goddamned self-imposed yoke is going to get our child hurt. Do what you do! Don't shy away now! You are always the hidden hero!"
He steeled himself, "I will never allow anything to hurt our children, or you..." he felt small, despite his words, like a mouse standing off against a mountain.
Her eyes saw the place in which he dwelt... She knew him, she knew he was perpetually ensconced in that particularly rigid role of provider and protector, and constantly fearing the failure that he sees all around him, even within him.
She stepped closer, and embraced him softly... "I know you will," she whispered, cupping her hand behind the curve of his neck. Her fingers caressed his hair, and she pressed her face against his... "Please help me understand."
It was followed by his deep sigh and a grin... "Wanna moke?" he asked... She sat, automatically began the ritual of rolling a joint.
The drawer under table aside the bed was accessed and she quietly crafted the cigarette...
This gave him time to consider whether the full force of the long tale should surface now... he opted against that... it would take days to tell. As she worked he thought about abridging the many times he had experienced this kind of thing... he also opted out the exposition about how 'talking about it' with anyone always led to him suffering in one form or another. The reactions varied from ostracization to pity, from the invocation to religious ritual to ridiculous pantomime ceremonies of abjuration. "That doesn't matter now," he thought...
"I'm thinking that I can tell you things about my past that I don't want children burdened with... certainly not until they are adults. But this is different..." He thought of his little girl, "Maybe I can make it safer for her."
"You're not helping me understand," his wife added, breaking tiny bits of buds into a small clump collecting on the tiny paper. "What I need to know is the specifics of safety."
He decided to break it all up into 'events', he wanted to get at least some of this behind them, before his daughter came in from doing the dishes... "Shit!" he exclaimed.. she's gonna come in here after she does the dishes..." His wife looked at him with a kind of "really?" expression... "She knows we smoke pot... did you really think she didn't?" He felt silly. While the youngins probably didn't know, she and her older sister certainly knew by now. "Yeah, but I don't want to do it in front of them."
She looked at him... and said "You're stalling aren't you?"
Once, when he was a boy, he had gone on a field trip to a ranch... they were going to see, as the highlight, a very old horse who used to hold the world title for the highest jump. The children's' tour was engaging, and he saw many aspects of the ranch... but he also saw something "waiting."
He had been shuffling along with his classmates, etching a meandering path through the ranch, stopping at pens, and enclosures... gawking at pigs, goats, and occasionally pointing out a peacock or two... it was fun, and interesting... he looked around seeing people who worked there, off at a distance, clustered around each other smoking cigarettes in the middle of one enclosure... they were near a big stump in the middle of the area... and on that stump was a big guy in a hairy costume... as he remembered it, it looked like a bigfoot costume, but he didn't know of bigfoot so as a kid, he thought it was a bad costume of a gorilla or something like it... a monster.
But no one was even looking at it, or him. It was as if the apparition was part of the scenery... ignored and disregarded. He felt no urgency or distress over it, because no one else seemed to even notice it. He turned away and tuned it out of his mind...
There was a time when he was older, when a vision of this sort kind of taunted him... seeing a fleeting 'shadow' or 'wisp' of movement, he saw what he thought was a floating head... looking around an old abandoned house. It moved in spurts, dashing around as if aimless... he pursued but lost it... and wondered what it was he thought he saw... he had come to consider most such sightings as a "thought I saw" moment... learning to cast it aside as a weird thing, not worth mentioning except maybe to his friends around a campfire... for it's chilling effect.
As he grew older, he began to connect some elements of the visions, commonalities, and postures... eventually coming to a conclusion that these things were real... but probably not important, since no one else he knew was seeing them, and the topic was always received as a 'tall tale' or a flight of fancy.
The things didn't matter, until he became a teenager... when his first interaction, and critical observations came into play.
------------------------------------------------
"It saw me..." it thought, "It dared to see me."
"The outrage, the temerity... this little smudge contemplated 'me!' Me!?"
It felt the 'tug and push,' the miserable inklings of thought fizzling and seeping in it's little mind. Disgusting and repulsive, whatever it was.
Then a biting wind, the sound, the cutting.
It was lost for moments... and remembered, as it was now far from that window... that 'man', that 'girl'... the girl... where it had happened...
But this time it would remember... it had made that vow many times before... but this time it would not be distracted. But the wind, it remembered that wind.
------------------------------------------------
Part 1: https://denyignorance.com/Thread-We-re-just-Different
Part 2: https://denyignorance.com/Thread-Don-t-go-looking]
He had to explain the whole deal... and in front of his wife, who he thought never really wanted to hear this stuff as it unnerved her... Under any other circumstances, he would never have this conversation... never want to be associated with the tropes and memes of the modern world applies to such things. While his daughter has actually seen the horror at the window, his wife never had such an experience... but she loved him enough to 'let it be' and he loved her enough not to subject her to the discomfort of what he said he knew because he had seen it.
Whether the daughter could truly understand was a serious concern for him. He believed that he had been lucky not to have been hurt by these apparitions... and he wondered if telling her might only increase the danger for her. He seemed sure that he wasn't really up to the task of mentoring anyone in this... he still had a million questions to answer, a million mysteries to be unraveled.
Where to start, where to start?
He had begun to believe that talking about this was like igniting a kleig light waving in the night sky. (Hell, he was wondering if even thinking about it wasn't dangerous.) He hadn't 'rehearsed' the explanation, as he had done with so many other ideas. This was to be an 'on-the-fly' explanation... one that he cannot allow to be misunderstood.
"These creatures are real" he said, realizing that he was repeating himself. It was a kind of reminder for his daughter that they were talking about something Mom has never seen. He gauged the look on his daughters face, the hint of an eyeroll... "Move on..." it meant.
"Fine!" he said abruptly, giving into the unspoken objection... "Look, I don't really know exactly what this thing is. I've read a lot of gobbledygook about it... there are somethings that fit... I've looked into it from a religious context... even a spiritual context... and some of that seems romanticized or made to conform with some narrative or other. But most everything I see written about doesn't feel complete. It missed the feeling accompanying the sight, the sense they seem to carry around with them, the sheer resentment I feel whenever they notice I see them. Like my seeing them was somehow 'rude.'"
He thought intrusively, "I have to hurry this up... the longer we talk about it, the more likely they'll smell it."
He continued, "Most of them are keen to jump scare you... as if that was somehow 'good' for them... and if you don't let the pang of surprise turn into a ringing fear... they get frustrated... quickly. I think they like to eat fear," he paused "... and what's more, they can eat sorrow, and anger, and who knows what else."
His daughter was bursting at the seams... "But what do they do, Dad, how do they hurt us?" "What can we do to stop them? Can we fight them? Can we make them leave us alone?"
This was the worst. He had no special answers that he could give her. No "Just do this" or "You can always..." advice he could deliver. It was like explaining to your children we are essentially weaklings, who can only endure abuse, and never end it with a silver bullet. Also, he was haunted by the idea that the more you think about it, the more likely you are 'shining' in the 'dark' like a feeble candle waiting to be blown out.
"I don't think they can kill us, or directly hurt us physically... maybe... but I've seen them affect people... sometimes in ugly ways."
She was his wife's daughter though... always thinking... she said "We should confront it, make it go away at least... we can't let that thing wander around here..." This was a zinger to hm... he had thought that himself, many times... but knew as well that non-confrontation was safety. He had also determined that they don't exactly get a jump scare when seen... they had to 'notice' him seeing...
Many time they had 'wandered off' as the daughter had presciently suggested... not once realizing (at least apparently) that someone was seeing them. But the thought of actually confronting one on purpose was chilling.
"I don't want to confront it... eventually, it will go away. I know it is there, and that's enough."
His wife was looking at him... in no special way, but he knew it was meant to convey "We need to talk."
"You have dishes kiddo!" he abruptly interjected... and added, "when your done we'll talk more..." His daughter had that "I hate not being an adult" look about her. "I promise." he added feeling merciful... his daughter no doubt felt is was in part cruelty. "Ugh!" She intoned, smartly gathering some dishes and huffing loudly.
In the bedroom, he met his wife... as if compelled by prophecy she said, "We need to talk."
"I know." he responded... projecting his own discomfort with this new responsibility. He really didn't want to talk about this...
And then it dawned to him... there might be something he can do...
Hunting this thing was a daunting idea. There really was no point in trying since they were so few, and so elusive that it would be like trying to hunt for a shooting star before you see it. But he could draw it in... he knew how to do it... it was relatively easy if his 'theory' was right.
His wife interrupted his thoughts, "You've done more than see these things, haven't you?"
"Not on purpose." he replied, it sounded defensive.
"OK, on accident." she amended, "Well then... is this a dangerous thing or not?"
"I can handle it!" he offered back. She was ready... "This isn't about you handling it, it's about her!"
His shoulders sunk, almost ashamed, he conceded, "I know... I may have to break my own rules now."
His wife was not fully engaged as a mother... "That girl wants to be a courageous as you! You know where that leads."
He looked at her. "Ignorance often masquerades as courage." he announced.
"What the hell!? Not now," she said, "Your goddamned self-imposed yoke is going to get our child hurt. Do what you do! Don't shy away now! You are always the hidden hero!"
He steeled himself, "I will never allow anything to hurt our children, or you..." he felt small, despite his words, like a mouse standing off against a mountain.
Her eyes saw the place in which he dwelt... She knew him, she knew he was perpetually ensconced in that particularly rigid role of provider and protector, and constantly fearing the failure that he sees all around him, even within him.
She stepped closer, and embraced him softly... "I know you will," she whispered, cupping her hand behind the curve of his neck. Her fingers caressed his hair, and she pressed her face against his... "Please help me understand."
It was followed by his deep sigh and a grin... "Wanna moke?" he asked... She sat, automatically began the ritual of rolling a joint.
The drawer under table aside the bed was accessed and she quietly crafted the cigarette...
This gave him time to consider whether the full force of the long tale should surface now... he opted against that... it would take days to tell. As she worked he thought about abridging the many times he had experienced this kind of thing... he also opted out the exposition about how 'talking about it' with anyone always led to him suffering in one form or another. The reactions varied from ostracization to pity, from the invocation to religious ritual to ridiculous pantomime ceremonies of abjuration. "That doesn't matter now," he thought...
"I'm thinking that I can tell you things about my past that I don't want children burdened with... certainly not until they are adults. But this is different..." He thought of his little girl, "Maybe I can make it safer for her."
"You're not helping me understand," his wife added, breaking tiny bits of buds into a small clump collecting on the tiny paper. "What I need to know is the specifics of safety."
He decided to break it all up into 'events', he wanted to get at least some of this behind them, before his daughter came in from doing the dishes... "Shit!" he exclaimed.. she's gonna come in here after she does the dishes..." His wife looked at him with a kind of "really?" expression... "She knows we smoke pot... did you really think she didn't?" He felt silly. While the youngins probably didn't know, she and her older sister certainly knew by now. "Yeah, but I don't want to do it in front of them."
She looked at him... and said "You're stalling aren't you?"
Once, when he was a boy, he had gone on a field trip to a ranch... they were going to see, as the highlight, a very old horse who used to hold the world title for the highest jump. The children's' tour was engaging, and he saw many aspects of the ranch... but he also saw something "waiting."
He had been shuffling along with his classmates, etching a meandering path through the ranch, stopping at pens, and enclosures... gawking at pigs, goats, and occasionally pointing out a peacock or two... it was fun, and interesting... he looked around seeing people who worked there, off at a distance, clustered around each other smoking cigarettes in the middle of one enclosure... they were near a big stump in the middle of the area... and on that stump was a big guy in a hairy costume... as he remembered it, it looked like a bigfoot costume, but he didn't know of bigfoot so as a kid, he thought it was a bad costume of a gorilla or something like it... a monster.
But no one was even looking at it, or him. It was as if the apparition was part of the scenery... ignored and disregarded. He felt no urgency or distress over it, because no one else seemed to even notice it. He turned away and tuned it out of his mind...
There was a time when he was older, when a vision of this sort kind of taunted him... seeing a fleeting 'shadow' or 'wisp' of movement, he saw what he thought was a floating head... looking around an old abandoned house. It moved in spurts, dashing around as if aimless... he pursued but lost it... and wondered what it was he thought he saw... he had come to consider most such sightings as a "thought I saw" moment... learning to cast it aside as a weird thing, not worth mentioning except maybe to his friends around a campfire... for it's chilling effect.
As he grew older, he began to connect some elements of the visions, commonalities, and postures... eventually coming to a conclusion that these things were real... but probably not important, since no one else he knew was seeing them, and the topic was always received as a 'tall tale' or a flight of fancy.
The things didn't matter, until he became a teenager... when his first interaction, and critical observations came into play.
------------------------------------------------
"It saw me..." it thought, "It dared to see me."
"The outrage, the temerity... this little smudge contemplated 'me!' Me!?"
It felt the 'tug and push,' the miserable inklings of thought fizzling and seeping in it's little mind. Disgusting and repulsive, whatever it was.
Then a biting wind, the sound, the cutting.
It was lost for moments... and remembered, as it was now far from that window... that 'man', that 'girl'... the girl... where it had happened...
But this time it would remember... it had made that vow many times before... but this time it would not be distracted. But the wind, it remembered that wind.
------------------------------------------------
