Sunday, 22 December 2013

The Watcher


 It’s 7.35 on a still Monday morning, I’ve got four lessons today, the first one starting at 8.30 which leaves me enough time to give the car a wash. So with my bucket of warm soapy water, ( well it is December ), and sponge in one hand, and a brand new chamois leather in the other, I open the door and step out into the chill morning air.

The previous day’s bad weather had left the car in a bit of a state, the doors and sills were covered in mud and it was almost impossible see through the windows and so, with the first sweep of the sponge it was great to see the black bodywork come back to life.

I’d been working for about five minutes before the feeling of being watched started to creep over me. I stopped and looked around, curious to see who else was out at that time of the morning, but I appeared to be alone. Shrugging it off I carried on with the cleaning, but, as I got to the passenger side door the feeling returned and a glance in the nearside mirror brought a cold chill to the back of my neck.

My watcher was standing looking down on me, he wasn’t very tall but as he moved his head his cold staring eyes gave him a look of arrogant menace. I’d seen his type many times before and I had a bad feeling of what was to come.

It was 8.00 and the car was looking good, time left to pick up my diary and get to my first appointment. Apart from a couple of glances towards my watcher I had managed to put him out of my mind, as I walked back inside I had a quick look around and noticed he was no longer there, I felt a bit daft then as I closed the door.

The sight that met me as I returned outside was, I suppose, only to be expected, the watcher had left his calling card, down the length of the roof, across the windscreen and over the bonnet, like a line of bullet holes.

My eyes started searching for him and I didn’t have far to look, there he stood on the roof, an evil look on his face as his eyes followed me as I walked to the hosepipe, the air turning blue as I called him every name that I could think of.

I’m sure he knew what fate awaited him if he ever came within reach of me but for now he knew he was safe. Having to wash the car again was bad enough, hearing that screeching laugh of his just added insult to injury.

As the stinking mess slid from the car the thoughts of revenge had already started forming.

by Mike Lanyon
 

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