As I lay on the floor in the darkness I looked up at the window and could see them, illuminated by a fragment of moon, looking inside with bad intent.
My apologies for the dramatic intro, readers. Mine, as you know, is a wilfully dull life, but my imagination drifts close to the edge sometimes, ken?
Let me tell you how the above spine-tingling scenario came arose. I was spending the first night in my new house. There’s no furniture, and there are no curtains either.
To forestall the furniture problem, I’d invested in an inflatable sofa bed. I was pleased with it, as it had looked for a while like I might have to sleep on the floor, though I cannot pretend that the arrangement was comfortable. Readers, I’ll be frank with you: it wobbled.
As I’ve revealed exclusively before, I go to sleep to the sound of audiobooks, like a child being told a story. Mostly, I like comforting or comedic tales but, sometimes, I enjoy coorying doon with something scary.
So I’ve been listening recently to The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham. It’s one of my favourite books, so I know everything that’s going to happen. All the same, this audiobook has scary music and a sinister atmosphere.
But it wasn’t really this that kept me awake. I couldn’t get comfy on the bed, and there was still light from the night sky partially illuminating the room.
Never mind, I lay listening to the story about giant, walking plants taking over the Earth. Then, when I opened my eyes and looked up from near-floor level to the window I saw them: tall plants looking in.
I knew they were doing nothing of the sort, of course. Plants aren’t sentient beings like you and, arguably, me. Prince Charles may speak to them but, at the time of going to press, they’ve never answered him back.
All the same, I thought the whole business oddly coincidental, and matters took a further peculiar twist next morning. I’d eventually gotten to sleep and, on wakening, not surprisingly looked up at the window. Oh, the sky!
Having lived lately in the city, I’d almost forgotten what it looked like. But here it was and, this news just in, it was right big. But it was also fascinating. I love to see the changing clouds.
So I lay looking. Then a peculiar thing happened. A small bright dot appeared. It was the sun trying to break through the clouds. Slowly, it got bigger. But the clouds fought back. They were restless clouds and they produced a markedly mottled effect on the sun.
I couldn’t stop looking at it, despite recalling warnings about not staring directly at the sun. When I looked away, I could see a big yellow circle wherever I placed my gaze.
Then I remembered: The Day of the Triffids. It starts with everyone looking up a dazzling light display in the sky, which causes them to go blind. Oh, my lord! Thankfully for me, though, the yellow pattern faded, and I got up to make some porridge. I was pleased to recall that, in the book, at least no one had been strangled by porridge leaping out of the pan and putting its gloppy hands round their throat.
