Close the curtains

There’s a window opposite me, the curtains are open, and it is dark outside. Am I rebellious or foolish? My friend Nick told me once that one shouldn’t ever be afraid of curtains left open like this, that the more frightening thing would be to leave the slightest crack of curtain open. In that case, he reasoned, you could be seen and be unaware of being observed. I wonder what he got up to when I wasn’t there to see him?

I look at this open curtain, there is nobody there. All I can see is black, and a bit of a reflection of the room I am in.

On the other side of the window is our back garden. What would happen, and what would I do, if I suddenly saw a figure at the window? Would it depend on the figure? I don’t think so. Not now that I’ve been thinking about the window. Not now that I’ve been wondering about it.

There is a bunch of fake flowers in front of the window, the reflections of the fake flowers make an interesting shape when I move my head. I should probably not move my head.

But what would I do if I saw a face? What could they do? Logically? I mean the house is locked. They could look in, and I could close the curtains. But obviously I couldn’t leave it at that. I’d have to call the police. And then I would start wondering whether they were still there. I might try and peek through the curtains. But then I would be suffering from the same situation my friend talked about earlier. The narrow gap is suddenly more frightening.

Imagine going up to the window and looking through the crack. What would you want to see? Would you want to see the face still there? No, the face that close to you with the cold breath steaming up the glass would be terrifying. But what if it’s not there? Where has it gone? What’s that noise? Is that them coming in at the other end of the house?

One thought on “Close the curtains

  1. Nick Ollivere says:

    It’s funny that the possibility of being seen by someone who we can’t see, almost immediately makes us think that it must be happening. For example, when I walk past a car, typically a limousine, with blacked out windows, I always think someone must be in there making rude gestures at me. Of course, the car is probably empty, or whoever is in there has better things to do than insult me. Nonetheless, it’s an immediate reaction, like tripping up in the middle of a crowded square – you assume everyone has seen you do it, and hang your head in shame. They’re some sort of internal defence mechanism, not particularly rationally constructed, and it always feels good to fight against them.

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