The Strangest Thing
You’re a funny one, kid. Woke up last night to hear you chatting away as if it wasn’t three o’clock in the morning. Thought maybe you had got your hands on the iPad again and you were bothering your second favourite dad at work. Turns out you were still perfectly comfortable in bed, still tucked under the covers – but having a full on conversation with the ceiling. Or the walls.
Either way, Luke, it was creepy and you scared the heck out of your dad. A new friend, you said between yawns. A new friend who lives in the ceiling.
That’s a no-no. Your big brother didn’t go through this imaginary friend phase and this dad has seen far too many horror films to encourage that kind of behaviour.
I read your favourite story, the one about the spaceman on the moon made of cheese and you fell asleep in no time. When you’re older and you find these journals, I hope you come apologise to me for being so creepy.
Love you, Lumpy.
Philip (your bestest, most favourite number one dad)
the plot thickens
Why don’t you ever tidy your room, Luke? Owen’s room is nowhere near as messy, just need to untangle the kid’s headset from his computer wires and job done.
But no, you feel compelled to hide the small square bits of Lego under the carpet. You jam poor action man behind your bed frame. He’s saved the world more times than we can count, Luke. He doesn’t deserve that.
Heard a scratching sound behind your bed, though. Not sure what’s worse – your friend in the ceiling being imaginary, or you stay up at night talking to rats. I’ll get your dad to look into it when he’s not busy pretending he’s still 25. Promise me you’ll act your age, Lumpy. I almost broke down when your dad asked if Cher would be a good ‘tune‘ for the weekend crowd.
Love you.
Phil
no more arts and crafts
Luke, see the attached picture. Take a good long look at it. You drew that abomination and wanted me to hang it on the ceiling. You said, and I quote word for word, ‘so the nice lady can look at us while we sleep.’
This is not a nice lady. Mrs. Harrow next door is a nice lady – she has eyes, at least! Don’t think I can’t hear you talking to yourself in your room every night. The scratching and whispering is driving me crazy. Thomas better be right when he tells me this is just a phase, Lumpy. You are gonna owe me big time when you get over this lady in the ceiling stuff.
Love you, even if you are triggering both your dads.
Phillip.
Is she I It’s all wrong Fuck Luke,
No. No.
They’re all dead, all of them. Jack, Robin, even Eileen. Disappeared.
I swear I saw her, all lumped into the corner of your wall like some fleshy spider, bent and twisted all wrong to be as small as possible, tucked up at the ceiling.
She was smiling.
I knew, somehow, if I shouted for help, she was gonna do something terrible. Terrible to you. Where are her eyes, Luke?
Someone help me, where are her eyes?
She needs new ones, so she can watch us sleep.
That smile.
God, that smile.
Luke,
I know we are all going through a difficult time. Owen is just grieving in his own way, don’t hate him. You both know I have a lot of work to keep up with to support you guys.
That feels like an excuse, doesn’t it? Truth is, I don’t know who else to be. Maybe I am running away, like Mrs. Harrow says.
Your dad kept this journal so you could look back and smile, maybe even embarrass you in front of a boyfriend or girlfriend. Phil was always the fun dad, the dad who knew how to handle you kids.
People will talk, Luke, you need to know that. They will talk about that night, ask you questions. I can’t protect you from that, I’m afraid. You need to know it wasn’t your fault, nor was it this lady in the ceiling you keep blaming.
People can just snap, one day. It’s not what anyone wants to hear, but it’s the only explanation.
Please use this to remember Phil how he was before the accident.
Maybe you can forgive me, too, for not being there.
I love you, both.
Thomas
Words by James Brown
Editing & design by N.S.Land
N.S.Land 