Sometimes you find yourself in the most surreal of situations. You have to ask yourself whether things are real or imaginary. Take this for instance…

Clyde Caspian of The Northern Star newspaper caught up with me at lunchtime today. I was walking around the lake when he jumped out at me from one of the pathways from the main road. I was startled, but nowhere near as much as he was. Apparently, he hadn’t jumped, but tripped over a root from one of the trees that was slightly uncovered at the edge of the path. If I was any further along, he’d have flattened me, but luckily I wasn’t and he didn’t.

“Tell me,” he said, just after putting his sunglasses on correctly after his stumble, and in his brisk journalistic tone, “what are you doing around here at this time of the day?” It was 13.30.

“Walking” I answered – I’m always polite, if slightly apprehensive when asked strange questions – I continued, “It’s my lunch”

“Oh,” he said, sounding slightly intrigued, “Do you normally go for lunch around here without anything to eat?”

“On a Friday, yes” I said, “I find it very relaxing.”

“What do you feel about the daylight?” He had taken a pen out of his inside coat pocket, and was reaching for something else. His notebook.

“I think it’s brighter today than it has been” I watched as he wrote this down.

“So, you are telling me that you find today’s daylight brighter than normal. How does that make you feel?”

“Erm, fine,” I had to squint as the sun appeared from behind a cloud, and shone directly into my eyes. I dashed under the shade of one of the large trees so that I could see clearly again. “Sorry,” I said to Clyde, “That was bright then.”

A strange look crossed Clyde’s face, and in the shade and through his sunglasses, I could make out his eyes – he was staring directly into my eyes. An extremely strange stare it was too! Very weird.

“Could you confirm that you find the sunlight uncomfortable?” His pen was poised.

“That was a little, then” I responded. Clyde drew a huge tick onto the page.

“Does it make you… cross?” Clyde now had a strange smirk on his face.

“Not really,” I smiled.

“Does it not… burn?” Stern look now, still with the intense stare.

“Well, it did a little then”

“So, you are confirming that you find that the sunlight in the daytime burns you?”

“Well, not so much at this time, but it did a little then” Clyde was now scribbling intently into his notebook. His hand was shaking.

“Tell me… garlic. How does it affect you? And holy water – how about that?”

“I’m fine with garlic, but haven’t had much experience with holy water”

Even more scribbling.

“You look pale,” I thought he was now getting a little personal. “I suppose it isn’t very often that your kind get out in the daytime”

“I’m out everyday” I replied, maybe too indignantly, “And not only at this time too! I’m paler than usual because it is January and I haven’t used my sun bed for a while.”

Clyde twitched again. “So, you use artificial sunlight to keep your skin in that condition”

“No, I…” He interrupted me before I could say anything else.

“And you don’t like holy water. I knew it!”

“No, I…” Yet again, another interruption. You can’t get a word in with some of these journalists.

“No need to say anymore. This story will be big. You are now marked.”

I was totally and utterly confused for a couple of minutes. I looked up and Clyde was gone. Vanished without a trace. My neck on the left hand side was itchy, and I had a small spot of blood on my fingertip when I itched it. And I was thirsty. Very thirsty.

I decided to go back to work as the sun was starting to give me a headache.

That was earlier. Now that it’s dark, I’m fine, and I’m ready to go out for the night. And, even if I do say so myself, I look pretty good this evening…

Would you like to leave a comment?

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.