Tag Archives: terror

Ghosts and Ghouls

It is often said that the dead

Are, forever, dead

And that only fools believe in ghouls.

But, having read

Of ghosts and vampires. When I retire

To my bed

I feel the dead

Draw near.

And in my troubled dreams I scream

In fear.

Yet ghosts and ghouls

Are for fools –

Or so I hear …

Ogre

The clock ticks.

Upstairs an ogre sleeps.

Paralysed by fear, a child sits waiting for the monster to awake.

Hands of terror traverse the clock’s face.

A creak. The child glances fearfully upwards, praying for deliverance.

Be Still

Be still my sleeping brain. But no, like a train you career along tracks of fear and pain.

Looking out of the window I see demons glaring at me. Monsters from the past after me dash ingendering terror and shame.

Oh dear god still my racing brain.

 

(The above was inspired by the following post on Behind the White Coat, https://doctorly.wordpress.com/2015/03/22/etude-to-silence/?c=16368#comment-16368) in which Victo discusses the problems encountered by some when they encounter silence. When one sleeps the distractions which keep us from silence are removed and the subconscious is given full reign. During the wee small hours when we sleep terrors creep out of their hiding places to torment us.

Something Lurking

Lurking in the headmaster’s office, the unspeakable punishment which awaited we unruly boys and girls. A thing joked about, part of school mythology but, deep in our subconscious we half believed (feared) that it was real.

I can not recollect, at this distance in time, from whence this fantastical object which aroused such terror mingled with glee in the minds of we children came. Perhaps it was the headmaster himself who first mentioned the existence of the thing. Equally plausibly it may have been one of us children who invented the instrument of punishment in order to strike fear into the hearts of his fellow pupils.

“If you are very bad you will get the …”.

I smile, removed as I am in time from my school days, at the remembrance of the ultimate punishment. No one, to the best of my recollection ever experienced or admitted to having experienced the full force of the headmaster’s displeasure. I among others received the full force of his wrath expressed in tones which brooked no opposition. We stood outside his office not daring to speak for fear of arousing the fearsome power which lurked within.

What was it which inspired such dread? and dread it we did despite our protestations to one another that such a thing could not possibly exist. Was it the swish of the bamboo prior to it bringing out welts on our unhappy legs and arms?

Imagine the most homely of objects, a slipper. Grandfather sitting by the fire in carpet slippers drinking tea or maybe smoking a pipe. Warm red slippers, now there is nothing to alarm one in such a homely sceene. Ah, but wait a moment what if grandfather in a fit of anger at the misbehaviour of his grandchild where to remove one of those homely objects, bend the child over his knee and slipper him? Not such a benign object then.

In our case it was no ordinary slipper we boys and girls feared. It was a slipper of demonic proportions, one possessed of an inner life which would deliver a slippering never to be forgotten by it’s unfortunate recipient. We feared, my dear reader the electric slipper.

Now I have no idea whether the slipper plugged into the mains or whether it was operated by batteries, none the less the demon slipper was the talk of the dormatories, the malign presence, always lurking just out of sight but waiting to wreak a terrible vengeance on anyone who aroused the ire of the headmaster sufficiently.

Did I and my fellow students really believe in the existence of the electric slipper? It was, largely a school myth designed and perpetuated by we boys and girls to add a frisson of excitement to the relatively humdrum existence of school. However I well recall passing by the headmaster’s office as night fell and feeling a shiver at the thought that something terrible might, just possibly be lurking inside.

The Bogeyman

The child dreads the bogeyman, the figment of fevered imaginings. The creature lurking in dark corners, croutched, like a cat ready to pounce. Adults frighten children half to death with ghosts, ghouls and other things which go bump at the dead of night. Kids lie in the dark, needing the toilet but not daring to leave the relative safety of their beds, for ghastly demons lie in wait for the unwary child. But the abused child, he who is to terrified to speak knows that there are no goblins waiting to torment him for he lives in hell and endures the torment of a flesh and blood devil. Oh to be the child frightend of ghosts and ghouls. How lucky in comparison is he?