C H Hiding in Plain Sight

Editor’s Foreword

Joseph Campbell once said that, “Eden is, but men do not see it.” Perhaps it’s right in front of us and we need only open our eyes.

Darkness.

You think I’d be used to it by now. An old companion. But there it sits in the corner just out of reach, taunting me with its cold embrace, its ability to hide. As I turn my head its shape mutates, twisting in response to my movements...

I can see by your expression that you’re scared. There’s no need. I can do you no harm, they’ve made sure of that. But look there, see how it knows. See how every time I look it moves. It’s watching, waiting. It knows they will come soon.

You’re not speaking to me are you, well, it’s your loss. I’ve achieved a new state of understanding, a new perspective on things. My... Activities have opened up new frontiers.

I know, I know. You’d rather stay unsoiled, clean. But we are all sinners Mother, only deceitful people would deny this, fools.

This table?

Yes it’s cold against my back. There are no comforts for the condemned, no special favours. I wish I could just slide off, slink into a corner and hide. But it won’t let me. Every time I approach, the cold light of justice illuminates the dark. Leaving me visible, vulnerable.

Crazy?

You really think so? Look I’m telling you it knows. It watches us all. Down dark deserted streets, in bedrooms, classrooms and cupboards it watches. Even on a bright sunny day there are shadows.

What do they do?

They don’t do anything.

No. Don’t go, don’t leave. I’m sorry they’ve taken away the medication, too many conflicting drugs, you know. That’s better.

You see, we’ve all got it wrong!

You don’t understand?

Nobody understands, that’s the trouble, you’re all innocent, all sheep. You’ve got to go there to know, to believe.

They’re here. I can hear them in the corridor with their Preacher and Prison Officers. It won’t be long Mother, not long at all now. I’ll give it one more go. I shake these chains in defiance at you hiding there in the dark.

You can see him shiver, look, he hides from the light. Doesn’t want you to know he’s there.

Who?

God of course. He’s watching, waiting, taking notes. He always has been, hiding in plain sight.

 

About the Author

Rob Rowntree lives and writes in Nottinghamshire, England. He started writing after his wife bought him a course of creative writing classes as a gift. Soon, several small press magazines took his work. He now has a regular writing slot with the pro-webzine Ideomancer interviewing other writers. Currently he's working on a novelóDestructive Tendencies, a film treatment and several shorter pieces. He likes spicy food and has been known to enjoy a good night out. He lives with his wife Dawn and his two sons, Ethan and Aidan.

 

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