Now, brace yourselves for a tale of what-in-the-world…
(It takes some explaining, you might want a cup of tea to go with this)
I’m a night owl. It is as it is. I don’t do mornings, I stay up late. When I say ‘late’, I mean five/six in the morning. Yes, I know. I’m wired up backwards.
For those of you who haven’t read my books – no pressure, that’s fine – but I just published book two, and it’s a bit different from book one. Same series, but it’s a lot creepier. My girlfriend described one scene as ‘gruesome’. For those who don’t know her, that’s quite a big deal.
Much as I’m working on book three (which is much more romantic, thankfully), I still have book two in my head. With all its attendant creepiness.
I took Doobie, the Jack Russell, out for his last pee of the night around half-five. It was very dark. There were still stars out. Very pretty, but gloomy, slight breeze, no street-lighting.
Doobie is a hectic little man, and has been known to dart after anything that moves.
Which he did. I assumed it was a frog, something similar. But it wasn’t.
And this is where my heart nearly stopped.
There was something in my driveway.
It was a tennis ball, just rolling to a halt.
Nothing terrifying there.
Except, I have no idea how it got there.
There’s no way the wind was strong enough to push it over the shallow kerbstone. It didn’t come from the house. It didn’t come from the garden. It came from the road.
I realised I might have been overtired, and, with the subject matter in my head, a little bit prickly.
But all I can think is – what if there was someone out there, in the shadows, pushing tennis balls into unsuspecting lady driveways?
I have checked. It’s still there.
(Fair warning: this might turn into a book)