Hello Darkness, My Old Enemy

By Jim Hagarty
2016

This is kind of embarrassing, I suppose, but at the age of 65, I am still afraid of the dark. Maybe even more than when I was a kid and was terrified by it. That is why I like the city – lots of light at night. It’s damn dark out in the country.

I am alone this weekend for the first time in a long while and even though our house is not a large one, when you’re alone, it can seem like an old castle with 200 rooms. I hear sounds, both inside and outside and wonder what’s going on. Of course, with two cats, a dog and a mouse, some of these unexplained sounds can be figured out fairly quickly.

One night, I sat straight up in bed in the middle of the night and if I had hair, it would have been on end. Someone was playing the piano upstairs but no one was home. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Whoever was playing it, wasn’t very good. I crept upstairs; no one there. A day or two later, our cat Mario went walking across the keys in broad daylight for some strange reason. Mystery solved.

I have to be honest, my imagination conjurs up all sorts of horrors in the middle of the night. But only when I am alone. It’s always been that way.

I have no idea how I would react if something really bad ever did happen.

I hope I never have to find out.

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.