Dark Days

Well, not really. But dark mornings for sure. My walk to the bus this morning was particularly eerie.

The darkness and shadows of early morning played tricks on me. I kept thinking I saw people that weren't really there crossing streets. If I had been listening to music, my hearing would not have been able to dispel the illusions, and I would have been constantly looking over my shoulder for a shadowy menace.

The newspaper man - the one who fills the newsstand - arrived at his corner just as a large woman was. In the quiet yellow light of the street lamp it looked more like the two were making a clandestine cloak-and-dagger drop-off.

Houses with less-than-well-kept yards seemed to retreat into the darkness of the overhanging trees. Their yards became barren dark patches of dead leaves. Fences turned into the last line of defense between me - the hapless pedestrian - and the evil, lurking, horrors that were once hospitable domiciles.

And it's only October. The sun will rise later and later, making my morning walks darker and darker.

If only I had a portable audio recorder. With that, headphone playing scary music, and a semi-conscious state of mind, I could scare myself incredibly and get it all on tape.