The Finest Thread by David Philips

Author:David Philips
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: macabre tales
Publisher: David Philips

The End

A Walk In The Park

It’s just past midnight. Lately, I find that I do not want to go to bed. I don’t want to sleep at all and do my best to stay awake. When I do drift off, my dreams are always the same. They are distorted memories of an incident that happened many years ago, but somehow, the older I get, the more recent the event seems to have been. Maybe it’s a sign of age. Or maybe it’s a harbinger of something else… something far more foreboding… Whatever the reason, they are disturbing me more and more, and I fear that I may soon lose more than just my sanity. If I do not set this record down now, very soon, it may be too late.

It was one Saturday night in the autumn of 1972. Some friends and I had spent the evening drinking in a bar before returning to someone’s house to continue our boozing session. We also indulged in other substances, but nothing heavy. If memory serves me correctly, it was Lebanese Gold. So between the alcohol, the hash, and listening to Pink Floyd and Kraftwerk on our host’s record player, we were all pretty well spaced out. Anyway, a while later, one of the group produced a Ouija board. I would swear that I saw no one bringing one in, but it was there, nonetheless. Naturally, in our artificially heightened state of euphoria, we all jumped at the chance to use it.

Before we go any further, I have to tell you something about the room we were in. It was our friend Mark’s bedroom, which did not have a ceiling light. Instead, there were decorative lamps fitted to the two side walls of the room, one set of which was fitted above Mark’s bed headboard. The fourth wall was opposite the door and faced onto the street, so had a window. The window had curtains, but they were still open. The switch which controlled these lights was situated on the wall just inside the door.

As we all sat cross-legged on the floor, somebody (I can’t remember who) opened out the board. Mark had returned from the bathroom with the obligatory glass tumbler. The wall lights weren’t bright and cast just the right ambiance for our foray into the unknown. When you are in your late teens, you think you are invincible, indestructible, and even the supernatural holds no fear. Well, it should have, at least for me. But I’m getting ahead of myself. With our index fingers placed on top of each other, covering the upturned glass base, someone asked the usual question: was anybody there? Immediately, the glass began to race wildly across the board. It stopped at specific letters but was only resting for the merest second, giving us no time to discern its message. At this display of unnatural activity, we all freaked out, pulling our digits from the glass. Two things then happened simultaneously. Firstly, the tumbler went flying across the room, smashing onto the street-facing wall just below the window.

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