Monday, 1 August 2011

A WALK OF FEAR by C.A. Jones

Maybe fear is to strong a word - profound disturbance probably describes it better.  I went to the shop earlier on my own and it was bloody horrible. There were hoardes of holiday makers everywhere and they were ugly motherfuckers!  I almost screamed as I rounded the end of my road and came face to face with them; however I kept a straight face behind my sunglasses and headed for the shop. 

Everyone I saw was looking at me funny. I have not had a smoke or a drink so my sensitivity was well up. I looked normal - hair up, lippy on, black skirt and red hacking jacket. Sandals. Nothing untoward about me, yet virtually everyone stared at me. And most not very nicely. I was very relieved to reach the shop and go in, away from the weird people.

I wondered if I was maybe having a flashback but when I saw the staff and other customers they were all normal. I got the bottle of water, stood in the queue and chatted to a young woman with a little boy. I exchanged a few pleasantries with the chap who served me and left the shop.

Right outside - glares - hostile glares from a woman with a dog ,and all the way back home it was the same. A gang of pissed up men shouted something but I ignored them. In fact the only people who did not look at me funny were two black families with kids. But then they were getting their own share of staring from the locals. I had my shoulders back and my chin up so I didn't look like a victim, but I felt they might suddenly conglomerate into a mob and attack me or something.

It was pretty scary. I carried the bottle of water like a weapon in case I needed it. I didn't but it was not a nice experience. 

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