C) somewhere in Birmingham

I must be still bleary eyed from crying or something, because the
guard's face, for a second looks dead, grey, then blurs back into
normality, eyes blue. Or, maybe he just isn't very well, for he shakes
his head, as if confused, grips the carriage doorframe white knuckled,
so I nearly ask if he's ok, but other passengers are pushing past, and
I turn to go, then flinch as a dark shape flickers by between me and
the train. But when I look where it has gone, there is nothing but the
shadow cast by a wall.

When I get home, to do something constructive I look in the phone book
for opticians, though it is too late to ring them. I am not sure how
I'll cope with work tomorrow. I want to ring Jim, but I know it will
only make things worse. I miss him though. Mum tells me I look
revolting, asks if I'm sick? Which cheers me up a bit as she doesn't
usually notice me at all. I say Jim and I have split; She looks blank:
she doesn't know who Jim is, though I have told her, but she says she
is not suprised as "no one could want you, so pull yourself together
and stop being sorry for yourself!" The contradictions this seems to
hold make me laugh but I decide I have had enough of today and go to
bed

I feel much better in the morning. Maybe it is not having eaten
anything the day before, but everything seems kind of light and free. I
take the optician's number to work with me, and ring from the canteen
in my tea break. They have an appointment free tomorrow at 12.30 - I
can go in my lunch hour. Which is just as well. As the day wears on, I
keep seeing shadows scurrying across well lit spaces at work. The worst
time is when I turn round suddenly, and there is a huge block of
darkness right behind me, making me step back in shock, but even as I
look it disappears without trace. The boys I am working with realise
something is wrong, but when I explain they tell me it's because I
don't eat proper food. I think I am just imagining all this to give my
mind something to think about because I can't think about Jim anymore,
though it is beginning to scare me a little : suppose there is
something wrong with my sight? Deliberately I don't have anything to
eat today, either, to give my body a reasonable excuse for all
this.

I go to bed early again, to stop thinking about Jim, but it doesn't
help : I lie awake, remembering the last time we met, when he didn't
want me to go home

The next day the shadows are still there, but no worse, which is a
relief, though I am shakey from lack of food, and feel lightheaded on
the walk into town to the optician's

Opticians are strange, all the rows of glasses, like bones in display
cases, or butterflies maybe, that let your eyes fly again.

I am early for a change and spend the time eying the frames, wondering
which I might buy. All the ones I like are for children. I hate being
grown up, it has never fitted me. But then, nor did being a
child.

The lady behind the desk is mumsy and nice, talks about the weather and
where I work till it's my turn. The optician asks me if I think there
is a problem, and I tell him about the shadowy forms. He looks
intrigued; he has very pale blue eyes, and pallid skin : I imagine him
spending all his time in this dark room, sorting out other people's
sight and never seeing daylight himself

As I talk, that sense of unease I first felt in Jim's flat comes back,
as if I am conjuring it up with my words. The optician is behind a
light now, fiddling with lenses, and somehow, he becomes the focus of
my fears; I have to steel myself not to shrink back into the seat as he
sits those those big ringed spectacles that make you look like an owl
on my nose, changes the lenses. He keeps saying "Ah!" and "Um..." It is
all just the same as the last time I got my eyes tested. I tell myself
not to be so stupid. He writes something down. "Do I need specs?" I ask
"Ah... Just one more" I must have irritated him, interrupting, as his
voice sounds different, flat. His hands come from behind, slide in a
new set of lenses "Now, look into the red light" Suddenly, I feel a
surge of power in the room, like lightening in the air, the sense of
unease about to burst into

I leap up out of the seat as a bolt of light shoots from the red screen
on the wall infront, hear his cry, turn, see his chest burning, yet it
it is his eyes, they are black, cold voids like the guard's on the
train. I am moving for the door, fall over my bag, pick it up, as the
receptionist comes in "Is everything alright?" Her face jels in shock
at the sprawled figure on the floor. I barge past her, the smell of
burning flesh won't go away, every time I blink I see those two voids
of black. I am in the street, running. Where? I see a bus, turn, head
for the bus stop, there are two people infront, I am so afraid, one
person, come on, PLEASE, I look for shadows, from the corner of my
eyes, IN. Grab my purse from my bag, my go, hand over ?10 "Where to?" I
don't know which bus this is, where it goes. I gasp "station", there's
bound to be a station somewhere, on a bus route? My busroute the
station is ?4. The ticket churns out, I snatch it, start for the
stairs, "Change!" his voice, impatient, mocking. I turn, he is fumbling
in his pocket. Oh GOD, HURRY, HURRY, close the doors!!!!!!!! He counts
it out, I snatch it, "Thanks" helter skelter up the stairs

I want to crouch on the floor, hide from the windows, but there are
three people here. Is it safer to be near someone? Will "it" be looking
for a single woman? The bus lurches, and I sink into the nearest seat,
then, putting my bag on the floor, pretend to rummage in it, head down.
Suddenly I become so dizzy I can't sit up. Why didn't I eat
anything???

I jump, as something touches my shoulder. "You alright, love?" I open
my eyes: an old lady is leaning over from the opposite seat, her face
concerned; I look at her eyes behind her streaky specs: they are greeny
blue. I try to smile, but it can't have worked "Here, you lie down on
that seat - where you going?" Her kindness makes me want to cry, and
suddenly I'm afraid for her, don't want her to be caught up in this
"The station, it's ok, I'm fine" "You don't LOOK fine! you're shaking
like a leaf! You lie down there" she nudges me "I'll tell you when we
get to the station" I'm beyond thinking, do as she says. For some
reason, through the shock of what just happened, I feel a sense of
release. Why? I lie awkwardly, feet on the floor, body on the seat, its
fuzzy orange cover under my cheek as the bus creaks and judders,
lurching round corners, grinding up hills. Of course! If there really
is something going on, maybe it wasn't really Jim on the phone? Maybe
he didn't tell me to leave him alone? But, God, in that case, where is
Jim? What's happened to him?