seemed young and boisterous, I passed a comment on their friendly nature. Paula briefly glimpsed them as she filled a kettle and told me they were the main cause of her trouble. She said Mike would not have them in the house, so had built a pound for them just round the corner, out of sight.
Paula told me they were constantly barking one night about six or seven months ago, and Mike, her husband insisted they were her Dogs, she should sought them out. "At first I thought it was 'cos they were cold," said Paula.
She told me how she came downstairs in the dead of night, about 2am and went straight out back to investigate. She continued as she livened a couple of cups with ingredients, and leant back against the kitchen work surface as the kettle boiled.
Paula looked distant, her vision staring directly from the window, her thoughts I guessed elsewhere. I had seen exactly the same expression on John's face, and the same defensive stance. They were indeed troubled people. I prompted her.
Paula apologised. She said, as the kettle switched itself off and she moved across the room; "The dogs were going mad. They were no more than puppies then. I thought them cold, or scared or just trying to come inside with us. The Boys bring them in," she admitted.
Paula said she let her two little lads play with them upstairs if Mike wasn't around. "But it didn't take long to realise it wasn't that!" she admitted, her tone lifeless. I asked her what happened? Paula said she moved outback, turned the corner towards their compound and saw them both behind the wire fence yapping, their tails wagging and in a very subservient position.
"You know when they try and please you, ears back, crouched position and seeming very scared. I walked over to pet them, and just sensed this presence behind me."
"A tangible presence?"
"It was that alright," insisted Paula, strongly as she handed me a mug of steaming tea.
She said it was a bitterly cold night, crystal clear sky, and the ground frosting. "I remember the Moon very full, the grounds very lit, and the fields and grass glittering like a pattern of pure ice crystals.
You could see an image of purity stretching over the distant hills and the air was so clean." I told her to continue. Paula said she spun round quickly and initially saw nothing, then slowly, over the house roof this image just came slowly into view.
She shuddered at the recollection that now tormented her mind. I asked her to describe in detail, graphically if she could, events as they happened.
Paula cradled her drink in both hands and mulled over the question, as her thoughts tramped their way back to that eventful, if somewhat scary night some months ago.
Paula said she was in a squat position, her back to the house petting her dogs through the chain-wire fence. "Their minds were distracted though. I stood and turned in a flash, looked-up, and there it was, this ominous black triangle shape emerging from the fabric of nigth itself. I wanted to run," admitted Paula, "but something just rooted me to the spot."
"Fear!" I suggested. It appeared my comment unhelpful.
Paula said it was more an inability to go anywhere. "It was almost as though I wanted to just flee, but couldn't. This shape constantly increased in proportion. Eventually it covered the entire building umbrella fashion. I felt its shadow stretching over the ground, then up over me until everywhere just became black. Underneath I could see the entire pattern, every nut and bolt."
"It was bigger than the house itself. I would say, perhaps twice the size, and acutely triangular. Black, I guess, no illumination to it, and the underside built of what looked like one piece, as though it had come from a mould."
Paula's face seemed confused, as she delved deeply for that meticulous detail required by sceptics like me. She said it was a black triangle, the belly was a selection of panels, shaped like a sea-shell, "all twisting and overlapping. Then a globe of light fell towards the floor. It stopped before me, and I know this will sound daft," apologised Paula, "but it sounded as though it was whistling. This very sweet high-pitched whistle. And that's about all I remember from that night."
I asked her if this was a simple one off, or if the event returned. Paula confessed she
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