Nothing has happened since I found the book.

It has been three weeks now and nothing has happened. There have been no strange unexplainable events in the night. Nothing has been tapping at my window. No strange footsteps have been heard beyond the door to my room. I have felt no chilling presence nearby. I have not turned to find a shrouded figure in the mist, watching me and raising a finger to point towards me. I have heard no scratching and snuffling creatures in the walls, nor the whispered words indistinctly heard in the night when no one is there.

I found the book, I read the book, and nothing has happened. No one has tried to kill me, I have not been accosted by cultists, or hunted by werewolves. No vampire has tried to charm me in order to sink their teeth in my neck. The ghost of an orphan has not wandered across my path. Doctor Willoughby has not looked at me strangely. The fog has not
seemed to thicken around me. No food has slivered on the spoon and tried to choke me as I struggle to swallow. As for spoons, none of them have gone missing.

I found the book, I read the book, I read the words out loud and nothing has happened.

No beautiful jelly fish creature from the sea has tried to tempt me into the depths. No cat of dust has blown down the street and danced around me. The crows have not begun to follow me. Nor do they croak my name. The night potatoes have not moved nor glowed. The townsfolk have not
started looking at me strangely and whispering as I pass by. No one has fed me poison, no strange flora has sprouted from the walls, no strange fungi is growing in the garden. The slugs have all remained the same size.

I found the book, I read the book, I read the words out loud, I made the markings upon the floor and nothing has happened.

The face in the mirror is my own, it does not laugh at me. The shadows dissipate with light and the sun almost shines through the cloud. The shore does not call to me and the things in the sea care not for my passing. The bread of yesterday was not full of maggots. There are no more bottles on the bridge than there were the day before. I have seen no words of warning made of fish. Nor scrawled in blood, or other fluids on the walls of my room. Nothing sinister has happened at all.

I found the book, I read the book, I read the words out loud, I made the markings upon the floor, I inked the symbols upon my flesh and nothing has happened.

Nothing has happened

Nothing…

I am scared.

(Text by Mark Hayes, photo of Mark Hayes.)