Fun with knives



“Shhh, settle down.


Now kids, just remember, even though you may sleep, do not forget the fact that your end of the house was built over a burial ground. A burial ground of the people that were here before the current aboriginals. A people so terrifying that their evil was not just physical, but one of time and space. An evil so horrid that it enters in the middle of the night, stripping your mind to the inner soul of you. A terror that knows your greatest horrors, your secrets, and amplifies your deepest fears. This grotesque horror becomes part of you, travels with you, never releases you. It is there right now, and when you close your eyes tonight, the darkness you witness is not the inside of your eyelids, rather you are staring into the black pit of despair. And all it has to do is wait, wait for you to sleep, and then you are theirs. The bumps in the night, the monsters under the bed, the face on the other side of the gap in the curtain. The wind you hear moving through the branches, and bushes outside of your room is not wind at all. It is the ancient terror, waiting, waiting for you, and it can see you right now………….Love you, have a good sleep, Dad xxxxx” 



When my daughters were roughly ten and twelve respectively, and had a friend over for a sleep over, they would all pile into an enormous old bed we once had together. With them would be the cat and the dog, and toys, and secret stashes of lollies and chocolates.  I would then tell them that tale as a bit of fun, just to clarify. The nervous giggles that would follow as I pulled the door closed, always made me smile, and the memory of it still does. Click the picture above.





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