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Jerry and Hilary Ford were normal. They had a house. They had a car. They were told that they were happy by the small black box which ruled their lives. Hilary went shopping.

In the town she saw an old man standing looking deeply at the town hall clock. He seemed to be trying to remember something. As she stood staring at him, he sensed her looking and he turned his clear gaze on her. She looked away quickly and walked on, shaking her head at the memory of the encounter. She was unduly nervous for the rest of her trip, and she forgot most of what she had gone to buy, and when she returned home she regretted the purchases that she had not made.

When she got home she told Jerry about the old man, and he told her to forget about him. He said it was not worth worrying about, and that he was tired. He went to bed, and Hilary sat up late into the night listening to disembodied voice in a small black box telling the invisible world how make their lives worthwhile. She was knotting her hands and almost shaking at the memory, but every time she trirfr to think why she concluded her fear was unfounded and she was being paranoid.

There was a knock at the door, and Hillary leapt, startled from her seat. She answered the door, telling herself all the time that she need not wake Jerry. After all, she insisted, it was just a knock at the door. To prove to herself that she was not paranoid, she opened the door without looking who it was.

The old man she had seen in the town walked in without a word and sat on the couch, muttering under his breath. She looked at him, the creeping terror battling with indignation and anger at his intrusion. He met her harsh gaze with milky eyes, and she suddenly felt very, very old. Finally panicking, she called out for Jerry. He ran down the stairs in his dressing gown, rubbing his eyes. He too started shouting at the intruder, but the man sat still. He just looked at them, with mild sorrow in his old eyes and his mouth moving all the while in silent conversation. It only took a short time of this before Jerry phoned the police. They arrived, their lights painting the walls red and blue and red again. The man was still, and the officers had to remove him by force. Jerry and Hilary finally went to bed, but they watched the clock eat the night rather than sleeping.

In the morning there was a knock at the door. They assumed it was a policeman come to check on them after the incident the night before. The old man walked in once again and sat down. Hilary cracked immediately, screaming and waving her hands at the calm old man. Jerry tried to remove the aged one, who was eventually removed to the steps of their house. He knocked incessantly on the door from his hermitage. After hours of this, during which time neither Hillary nor Jerry had dared to leave the house, he smashed a window and clambered into the front room, sitting down on the couch. Hilary screamed again, picking up a vase and brandishing it. Jerry tried to get him evicted again, and the police obliged. And yet the next day he returned. And the next. In desperation they decided to leave for a time and go on holiday. They drove off after a terrifying scramble to the car. Jerry noticed in his rear-view mirror that the man was walking slowly down the street towards them, and the cold grip of fear held his tongue and he dared not tell Hillary. The man was soon out of sight, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

When they were relaxing in their holiday cabin on a lakeshore, they heard footsteps in the woods. They ran inside, hearts pounding. In the moment of silence they looked at each other and in their eyes was a question of their minds. There was a knock on the wooden cabin door. The old man opened it, even through it was locked. He walked towards the pair slowly, and they retreated through the rooms of their house. He walked slowly, not running because he seemed to know that they had nowhere to go. In no time they were trapped in the back room. Jerry smashed a window and jumped out, followed by Hillary. They ran along the lakeside, sure that they could hear the slow footsteps just behind them despite the difference in speed. Looking back, the man was indeed following them at a steady pace. They ran on until they were both too tired to run any more. They had to rest, and were woken by the footsteps close by. The pair were tired, but they ran away from the man. Soon they were forced to rest again, and this time he caught them more quickly, forcing them to run again. This cycle of fear wore them down, until they had to stop or they would die of exhaustion. Neither could they afford the time to eat nor drink, so they were starving and the grip of fear on their empty stomachs seemed endless. They watched his stooped silhouette gain on them from far in the distance, waiting for him to catch them.

He approached them, holding his old hand out. Hillary looked up at him through matted white hair. She extended a stained, shaking hand in mute supplication to the nameless follower. The old man dropped a tarnished pocket watch into her weak grip. Then he turned around and walked away at his characteristic pace.

Jerry peered at the watch in his wife’s hand through clouded eyes, puzzled to find that the hands were not moving. He looked up, watching the old man fade into a grey mist that rose from the middle distance to obscure the world. Hillary sat down in the road, and Jerry joined her, and together they faded from the world which continued, unchanged by their frantic passage.

Please send any comments to me.

Jim