It’s rather unusual to see something unusual in Oswaldtwistle. We’ve had an Ossywood sign propped up in a field and a man involved with a horse on an intimate level (wasn’t me), but other than that everything stays still. The butchers don’t sell special meat and the residents don’t take part in pogo stick beatings (That’s Blackburn). So when something is off, it’s really off. Like the chalk hands on the floor, pointing into the dark side of the Twistle.
The first set of arrows looked like badly drawn penises, suggesting a possible naked tramp waiting at the end to snatch up some clothes. There was no sign stating where the hands led, so there could be no blame if you chose to follow and ended up in an unfavourable situation. And so I followed. To ignore would be to turn down true romance, and who turns down romance in this dreary world?
I followed the hands over benches, under cars and through buildings, and the hands did not end. I’m still following them now, wondering where they lead. It’s better to delude than to accept the true conclusion.
It was a naked tramp.