Menace, Unseen or Imagined.

I discovered tonight that Church Lane is not only the prettiest of the lanes in these parts, but also the darkest at night. I don’t know why that should be. Maybe it’s because it’s the narrowest, or maybe it’s because the hedges haven’t been trimmed there yet and maybe they block out more of what little light there is available on a rainy, moonless night.

I took a detour along there on my way back from the usual walk, almost as far as the old copse that sits on top of the rise. And that was when I felt the same sense that I described in a story once – a sense that there was some menace nearby, a menace that was real in spite of the rational mind telling me that this was England in the 21^st century and there were lighted houses only a few hundred yards across the fields.

On my way back there was much turning around and shining of torches, which didn’t help because the dim eye and fanciful mind readily conspire to make suspicious shapes of innocent shadows. The sense of being followed wasn’t that easily dispelled. I had the same problem as a child and it’s never entirely left me; and it was surprising how long it took to laugh it off when I got home.

There isn’t really anything of menace in the old copse on top of the rise in Church Lane, is there? Well, almost certainly not. But the night has a powerful presence, and who knows what it might harbour, even in 21^st century England?