I’m standing on the edge of a park, in the shadow of a thick oak tree, my clothes and shoes drenched with water. It must be midnight; I can hear the distant sound of a church bell echoing through the heavy mid-summer rain. My vision is blurred by the fat raindrops, yet I can see a flickering light of a rusty old lamppost nearby.
What a strange-looking lamppost it is! What is even stranger, though, is the man sitting on a bench, right next to the lamppost, his silhouette illuminated by the streetlight.
Despite the weather, he doesn’t seem wet at all. His colourfully patterned clothes, his green, curly, shoulder-length wig, his lopsided hat, and even his enormous bright yellow shoes are all somehow resistant to the rain. I move closer, my feet splashing in the puddles. He doesn’t seem to notice me. His body is in an unnaturally straight sitting position, his hands on his knees, his ankles pressed tightly together.
I take a few more steps towards him. My heart is pounding fast in my chest partly because of the blood-curdling fear, yet it is my curiosity that makes me move forward. I need to see him from up close. Is he smiling, I wonder? He must be.
But he isn’t.
As I move even closer, I see his eyes fixated blankly on something in the distance. He doesn’t even see me. I do see him, though. I see red tears dripping down his face; blood or paint, quite difficult to tell. I see his mouth trembling, his dark eyes glowing. He’s frowning, as if utterly sad or terrified. And then, I see him slowly raising his right arm, pointing in the same direction where he’s been gazing all this time. I turn enquiringly, following his gaze.
A few seconds pass. I see and hear nothing, nothing but the rain. I want to look back at the man, examine him a little longer, and try to understand what the matter with him must be. But before I turn, I spot movement by the bushes. Whatever it is, it’s moving closer.
Closer.
Closer.
It is here.
© Nikolett Galambos 2023-06-25