The Paper Men
The Paper Men came to me as a young child. I was never much for bed but at the same time, the late night frightened me, fascinated me also but frightened me. Sometimes I would imagine a band of distorted, rotting men roaming the country side, ready to snatch any children up late. I would invision these men peaking in windows, which would quickly send me hiding under the duvet.
Without further delay, I give you the much anticipated Paper Men...
Without further delay, I give you the much anticipated Paper Men...
I would remember always the fire crackling away in the hearth. It was a constant of the old cottage and Nan had a gift for it. She would set it as the cock crowd and would not have to feed it until later that evening. Granda had a gift as well, a gift for storytelling.
Every second Saturday I would spend the night at my grandparents and I relished nothing more than cosying up with Granda in front of the roaring fire as he regaled me with tales of adventure. He would set each scene with copious amounts of detail and change his voice according to which character was speaking. His stories would capture my overactive imagination and plunge me into a surreal world of fantasy. One of my favourites and most vividly remembered was the tale of the Paper Men. It was a story I didn't hear often as nan felt it would give me nightmares and she'd be right in her thinking. However, terrifying dreams or not I always took the opportunity when I could to hear the story; until that fateful night when I taunted the Paper Men myself. After that, I never asked for the tale again...
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© Sarah O’Regan
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