Earlier on the journey something had caught my eye from the train and having drifted from my thoughts, now returned as the temperature dropped and the wind picked up along the coast road. Have you ever seen something that you caught in the corner of your eye?
I’d glanced up from my book to look out the window and saw someone standing in a field. It would have been late in the afternoon, or at least late enough on a December day that the colour was draining from the countryside into a shifting palette of grey and it seemed to me that a person out there alone would be out of place, far from any road and watching the train as it passed. It was hard to get a clear impression of this figure, silhouetted in the last light of day and it appeared to be nothing more than a shadow, in the fading light. Except that it seemed that it was looking at me.
The impression of this was brief and in seconds the figure was gone, vanishing behind a blur of trees and gorse along the train track.
It’s a lonely time of day, that hour before sunset. I leaned back into my seat again. As often it is when the curtain is raised briefly to reveal a glimpse of the unexplained, it quickly faded from my thoughts, as the train wound its way through the countryside into the darkness of the evening.
Now we see through a glass darkly.
'Now We See Through A Glass Darkly' is an excerpt of a Pentagram Home Video novella written & performed by Freddy Carrie Cruiser.
Earlier on the journey something had caught my eye from the train and having drifted from my thoughts, now returned as the temperature dropped and the wind picked up along the coast road. Have you ever seen something that you caught in the corner of your eye?
I’d glanced up from my book to look out the window and saw someone standing in a field. It would have been late in the afternoon, or at least late enough on a December day that the colour was draining from the countryside into a shifting palette of grey and it seemed to me that a person out there alone would be out of place, far from any road and watching the train as it passed. It was hard to get a clear impression of this figure, silhouetted in the last light of day and it appeared to be nothing more than a shadow, in the fading light. Except that it seemed that it was looking at me.
The impression of this was brief and in seconds the figure was gone, vanishing behind a blur of trees and gorse along the train track.
It’s a lonely time of day, that hour before sunset. I leaned back into my seat again. As often it is when the curtain is raised briefly to reveal a glimpse of the unexplained, it quickly faded from my thoughts, as the train wound its way through the countryside into the darkness of the evening.