‘…perhaps
all the wisdom, and all the truth, and all the sincerity, are just compressed
into that inappreciable moment of time in which we step over the threshold of
the invisible.’
From a
little kid dusk has always been my favourite time of day. I remember telling
mum this when I was round seven and she said that a lot of people didn’t like
dusk because it made them think of death. It didn’t make me think of death. It
didn’t make me think of anything. That’s the thing; it made me feel. Everything
becomes quiet; the light softens, things blur and boundaries disappear. There’s
a settling down, an anticipation. Listen up, something big is gunna happen.
Dusk is
the moment before EVERYTHING changes. It’s a liminal time, one that divides the
visible world from the invisible, the known from the unknown. We’re standing in
a threshold where we can view everything, both the light and the dark, the
before and after; all is intermingled. All is one. Dusk is a doorway both
in space and time, an entrance and an exit where the whole mystery of this
world we live in can be glimpsed, if we choose to do so.
And this
is how I define horror, the making apparent of what is invisible, the viewing
of not just what’s obvious and accepted, what’s always been, what is desired, but the attempt to see the
whole. To do such a thing can be very uncomfortable. Not just for the reader
but for the writer too. When the hidden comes out there are no rules anymore;
taboos are broken, fears are exposed, stability is lost, ALL HELL CAN BREAK
LOOSE.
We aren’t
fully aware for good reason, it could kill us or send us mad, but in this
threshold you are presented with a choice – to consciously recognize reality as
more than what is obvious. For me there’s a greater sincerity here, wisdom is
gained, but does it really bring us closer to the truth? Regardless of having
glimpsed the whole we still end up in our own little worlds. Maybe they’ve
stretched a bit, maybe we move a bit different, stand taller or curl over, skip
or crawl, but the uncovering cannot allow us to leave permanently where we have
settled, the illusion remains, unless we become no longer human.
I suppose
that’s why I like writing as a werewolf. Truly anything can be. Not even the
laws of physics stand in my way. CREATION IS
ULTIMATE FREEDOM
The
quotation is from Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad, a writer who
bravely ventured into the horror of being human.
And this
is a poem for someone I spent dusk with recently…
Anybody
can die. Everybody does.
The
evidence of this exists in
bones and
sadness and grief.
Few go
happily, many go accidentally,
unexpectantly BRUTALLY softly
silently noisily messily,
rarely irradiating joyously-
perhaps
there is knowledge
and if
lucky love – for your dog
maybe,
for people it’s much
more
complicated. Guilt and murderous
thoughts
lead to the need for oblivion
and
painkillers, or just the pain
because then life can be FELT,
and there
is no respite –
the
Quickest have sweet time
and the
unafflicted DO NOT EXIST
regardless
of the various worlds
they once
lived in.
X marks a
kiss and your zenith
is the
place you fall from, the depth
of your
grave determined by the
height of
your fall…
all that
exists is a moment,
when you
hold on to it it’s gone.
