It’s been a strange week. I’ve spent most of it in my head, writing. I’m working on a folk-horror story (yep, set here in MK!) about an ancient evil that lurks under the ley-lines, and what happens when the careful order of our grid-roads and redways is disturbed – what horrors might be unleashed? I’m thoroughly enjoying myself, but I’ve been on a deadline to share it with my writing group for some feedback so I’ve had a few late nights creeping myself out. With that sent off, I’ve switched to a side-project helping out with reading through thousands of comments on a YouTube channel, to pull out the ones where people have shared their own spooky stories—and let me tell you, a few hours spent neck-deep in spontaneous true-life tales of haunted houses, demons, possession and just about any strange thing you could imagine does some really odd things to your brain.
I needed a break from the screen, so this morning I set off on an adventure. I still find it a little bit weird that anyone reads these ramblings, but it seems people do and a few weeks ago I had a lovely note from a reader who suggested a couple of eerie spots I might check out. I’m keeping their identity and the exact details of the location to myself, but if you’re reading this, you know who you are, and how grateful I am that you got in touch!
I’ve posted a few entries that feature the exotic wealth of graffiti that graces the concrete spaces of our city. I know, a lot of people hate it, but I find it fascinating. I remember a while ago seeing “SILENT MONKEY” sprayed in different spots—shamefully, it’s only recently that I realised it’s an anagram of – yeah, Milton Keynes.
I’m never really sure what to call it though—street art sounds way too middle class. Spray-can art is even worse, like something from an edgy gallery exhibition, and I’m about thirty years too old to start dropping graf or bombing without sounding like an idiot. I’ve gone with tags for the title of this post, mainly because it was the least cringey term I could think of. But you all know what I mean, so let’s stop worrying about semiotics and get on with the photos!
I found myself feeling very small, the immensity of the bridge and the traffic rumbling by overhead just added to the menace. The rows of concrete supports form a perfect gallery, and there’s something eerily compelling about the way they march off into the distance. I explored the site from both sides of the water, listening to the echoes of water dripping down from above. This was definitely one of my “take your AirPods out” spots… as you walk further into the gloom under the bridge, there are several places where you can’t see behind the supports until you get right on top of them, and I was mindful of the possibility that there might be someone—or something—lurking behind them. I’m sure they’re inhabited at some points, but not today.
The unsettling character that I’ve chosen for the feature image lurks right at the very end of the arcade and had been winking at me ever since I spotted him from the other side of the water… now, I’m willing to admit that my primed state was entirely to blame for this but I’m sure I saw one of his—paws?—move as I got closer. Maybe he was waving hello, or sending me some sort of warning. I listened. I took my pictures, absorbed the atmosphere for a few minutes, and then got the heck out of there.
I’ll keep to scares in the fictional world for a bit, I think.
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