A Game of Tennis & The Man In Black

August 1986 was very hot. At this time I had got myself some new work in a local supermarket. Having a settled accommodation allowed this to be possible and I relished the fact I was earning money again at last. Over the last couple of months we had been through some serious upsets because of heavy handed and inconsiderate investigators. But this new one, Clive Potter just felt right. I just felt he was supposed to come into the picture. As usual we communicated with red Eagle, (who we by now had come to realise wasn't a single entity, he was one of The Nine, who at various times assumed this red Indian guise.) We asked him so many questions, re-asked the same questions about this investigator. we had had enough of the bruising we received, and particularly after a significantly awful experience at the hands of one very inept and irresponsible Albert Budden, we wre on the verge of not even contacting this latest one, regardless of how positive I felt about it. But Red Eagle urged us to, and so I did.

Shelagh walked across this field and was abducted as she entered the trees on the right.

 It was about this time that I got talking to security guards around Whiteknights and through them discovered that dancing lights were seen in the general area of Shelagh's abduction experience. This was the first independent corroboration of the odd things seen at this powerful portal straddling dimensions. Adjacent to this area is a school that Julian used to attend, and some weekends when the weather was good, he and I would wander over there to play some tennis on the courts. One of the more minor but nonetheless puzzling experiences happened on a Saturday early in August. we were playing a casual game of tennis. The ball was a bright yellow thing and could be clearly seen in flight. Nonetheless, Julian with very keen eyesight managed to hit the ball just inside the line, and just out of my reach time and time again.

He persisted at this, scoring points over and over again, making me angrier and more frustrated. Eventually I had enough, I couldn't take any more so when I snatched up the ball in fury and set myself to serve. I glared at him, glared at the ball and focused my now immense bottled rage into that strike. I hit the ball with a massive unleashing of energy.  I watched the ball hurtle towards the net. Julian shifted his stance to counter attack. The ball crossed the net line like a cannon-ball and then ...
Vanished!

We both froze to the spot and gaped open mouthed. We had seen the ball in mid-air one moment, then it simply winked out of existence. numbly we walked to the centre of the court and began looking for the ball, it's all we could do even though we had not seen it drop to the ground. This is one of a great many minor examples of the power that Whiteknights Park exerted.

The following Thursday I was at work, Shelagh was at home when there was a knock on the door. She walked from the kitchen and as she went to the front door she was momentarily puzzled, because the door is at the top of eight concrete steps from the pavement, and the door has a large plate of opaque glass, so she could see the shadow of anyone standing there. She saw no shadow and assumed whoever it was had left immediately. So she was surprised when she opened the door to find a man standing there. she described him as around 6' tall. of medium build. he wore a hat and business suit with a white shirt and black tie.

The first thin she noticed was how absolutely perfect his suit was. It was immaculate with perfect sharp creases down the legs, razor-straight, she described them as. the second thing she noted was although it was a hot and cloudless day, the Mediterranean-complexioned man didn't have a single bead of sweat on his smiling face, nor was his white shirt collar stained with perspiration. In his right hand was a black brief case, like the rest of him, looking brand new and unused. His black lace-up shoes were polished to an incredibly high finish.

He continued his almost pointless smile as he asked her if I was at home, Shelagh said that I wasn't. He then asked her what time I would be home, and as he asked this question she felt herself being drawn to a small silver pin badge on his lapel. She found herself trying to focus on it but every time she did, it just slipped out of her vision. It was as though she was trying to chase it. He had spoken these words and although she said it sounded like a European accent, she could not place it.

Then she was aware that although the house was on a major busy road leading into reading town centre, there was suddenly no pedestrians and no traffic. She later remarked that the effect was very like just before we had seen the prehistoric beast apparition. Also, the background slipped out of focus and her entire gaze was on this man. She could not fight him, she wanted to look away and bring the street back into focus but could not. Shelagh found herself answering, telling him what time I would be home. Then an instant later the man was two steps down towards the pavement. Even years later, she maintained that he had not physically moved. He had simply shifted. down. still smiling he said to her 'You need to stop what you are doing.'

Then he was on the pavement, still staring at her, still smiling, she still fixated on the silver pin badge. 'You will stop what you are doing.' he said. But this very last remark she didn't remember him speaking, it was just in her head. Then he turned and walked briskly along the pavement. at that point the spell broke and she saw the pavement busy with pedestrians and heavy with traffic.

She went down to the pavement but by this time he had vanished, she looked down the road that ran alongside our house but he could not be seen anywhere. he had simply vanished. Shelagh returned to the house and made some notes for when I got in, she also pointed out that the feeling she had, overwhelmingly, was that this had been the source of the footsteps that had followed us home a few years previous.