chapter 3

Justin did not notice anything strange or unusual occurring until he had been there about a month. Objects would go missing. Justin blamed his poor memory or his flatmare. But then the object would turn up somewhere quite different. Again Justin blamed his memory or his flat mate. Maybe she was playing games with him. He would have to speak to her...

After a month or so, Justin often had the feeling that he was being watched, yet no one was there. It was most disturbing especially when he was getting changed or in the bath.
It got to the point where he knew the person watching him was not from the real world, but the world beyond the grave. The world of spirits. He knew that person was male. How did he know that? The sensible part of his head argued with the nonsensical. He knew that person wore a black suit with a black shirt and tie. He knew exactly which part of the room he was standing. Yet he had not seen the person with this eyes. He just knew. He could not explain it. Sometimes his presence was close. Sometimes he was watching from above or from the corner of the room.
Justin was scared. He could not say a thing because no one would believe him. He had no proof. It felt so real, but maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was all going on in his head and his subconscious mind was making it all up... or maybe he was going mad!
He told no one. He could not have other people think he was going crazy! He tried to ignore the presence. He thought he was doing well until he started to become aware of a familiar female figure as well. Justin knew it was his grandmother. She had died only a year ago. Her presence took a shapeless moving form in pastel colours. She would often place herself between him and the dark figure.
He did not understand. He did not sleep very well because of the internal turmoil within him. He would go to work unrefreshed and still frightened... especially when the dark presence started leaving the house and coming to work with him.
His normally immaculate appearance began to slip. He would turn up to work unshaven, looking very much worse for wear.
His boss noticed the change and guessed Justin was having too many weekday nights out with the lads... or maybe he was having too much company of the female kind. That was why he looked so tired all the time.
Justin agreed to knock the weekday drinking on the head. In actual fact he was hardly drinking at all! He looked in the mirror and saw the dark shadows around his eyes. These were the only dark shadows that were tangible. He was walking around in a permanent state of sleep deprivation. He never woke up refreshed. What was going on?

While he was in this half zombie state, he started hearing voices in his head. At first, he could ignore it. The voice belonged to the dark presence. It was a deep, rich, disembodied voice, as if someone was whispering in his ear. At first, it was little louder than a whisper, but then, the more he tried to ignore it, the louder it became.
His grandmother's voice was there too, but hers was very much weaker.
He would be standing in the queue in the staff canteen, wondering what was on the menu. He hoped it was something that he liked. He hoped he would not end up leaving half of it because he didn't like anything on offer.
'You're hungry!' Came the voice.
He ignored it, but immediately a grumble started in his stomach. He was rather peckish.
He picked up his main meal as usual, but as he passed the sweet section, the voice would pipe up again. 'Have a pudding!' He did not want a pudding a yoghurt would be sufficient. Nevertheless he found himself asking the dinner lady for cherry pie and custard, or chocolate sponge with chocolate sauce and custard, or whatever the pudding was that day.
The voice would be quiet unless he tried to leave the pudding without even trying it.
Afterwards, he would feel heavy and bloated with the stodgy pudding inside him. It made him feel even more tired than he really was. But the voice was silent.

It was not much of a change in his diet, but it was every day. Justin noticed his clothes were getting a little bit tighter. He would have to knock the pudding on the head and start getting his bicycle out.
But the pudding continued and the bike stayed in the cupboard under the stairs. He was too tired to be bothered about going out for a ride. All he wanted to do was sleep!