It is out there, out to get you…

It creeps up on you. Every day you feel its pres­ence a lit­tle nearer, just lurk­ing in shad­ows, ready to jump on you. When you turn round to face it is gone how­ever, back into that creepy space between the cob­webs and cup­board, just behind the Isle of Lost Duplo’s and the For­est of Baby Socks Mys­te­ri­ously Vanished.

But you know it is there. You hear its eerie whis­pers in the dark, its soft chuck­les, the gnash­ing of its teeth. Every time you allow your­self to relax you can hear its snig­gers, its soft voice hum­ming a mur­der­ous tune. You are con­stantly on edge, ready to bat­tle it when­ever it  chooses to show its ugly head. 

But it is not this con­stant watch­ful­ness which drains you slowly but steadily. It is know­ing that no mat­ter what you do, who you pray to, whichever voodoo-magic you shake out of your top hat, you are to all effects com­pletely and utterly pow­er­less. It is out there to get you and it will get you and all those you love and drag you down into the very pits of hell.

And then it launches its attack.

Like a fully trained Ninja it starts stalk­ing you and your fam­ily. Its first prey is the weak­est link of the fam­ily. It is nature’s law after all.

It starts small enough, just an itch in the throat. You do not worry about it. You try to reas­sure your­self by pre­tend­ing it is just be a stray bread­crumb. That the ears hurt because the music was too loud, that the snif­fling is just caused by aller­gies. Because in these climate-changing times it makes total sense for pollen sea­son to be early!

You wake up at night when you hear it creep­ing up the stairs, inch­ing closer to its goal with all the patience of an African lion stalk­ing an unsus­pect­ing gazelle. It betrays its pres­ence with the lit­tle coughs that float towards your bed­cham­ber like some macabre ver­sion of ‘Eine Kleine Nachtmusik’.

You and yours are doomed and you know it. And there is noth­ing you can do to stop it.

Oh, you try. You try to fight it, to exor­cise it with lemon-holy-water and honey-potions. At first it will appear that you have been vic­to­ri­ous, the coughs go away and so does the throat-ache.  You will breathe eas­ily once more, lulled into safety.

But you are wrong.

For then it strikes again. More vicious than you could pos­si­bly imagine.

When you real­ize what is hap­pen­ing it is too late. The seed of evil have been sown and they are grow­ing like a cou­ple of nuclear –energy enhanced beanstalks.

First to fall is the eldest. She comes home one fine day cough­ing like a warthog with a two-pack-a-day-habit. Her eyes red, her nose run­ning, tem­per­a­ture rising.

You help her, for that is your job as a mother. But while you are tend­ing to your child’s soup and tea needs the evil gets his ugly, slimy hands on you and before you know it you are done for.

Next thing you know it is your throat that is hurt­ing, you nose which is run­ning and it’s your eyes which are red.

Tea becomes your new best friend and honey your con­stant com­pan­ion. You hope that they will be able to dis­pel that most unwel­come of guests : the Com­mon Cold.

Wel­come to Cold Sea­son, my friends! Free tis­sues every half hour.





4 thoughts on “It is out there, out to get you…

  1. This was awe­some. I kept read­ing and read­ing, watch­ing, wait­ing for the hor­ror. Yup. The com­mon cold is pretty hor­ri­ble, only to be sur­passed by the puky flu.

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