>>7556079As he approached the man my grandfather did what any boy of his generation would have done and said good morning to the man.
The man turned slowly and gazed at my grandfather and bade him good morning in return. Slowly but with purpose without ever breaking eye contact with grandfather he steped off the style.
The man had an aura that my grandfather could only describe as predatory, not in the child molesting sense; but rather like a wolf or some such. Despite the waves of dangerous potential coming from the man my grandfather climbed over the stile breaking eye contact with the old man.
It wasn't until he was nearly at the woods beyond that my grandfather realised he couldn't remember the old man's mouth moving at all when he had spoken, and that the mist which my grandad was waist deep in had refused to touch the old man at all, recoiling from his figure instead.
Terrified by these memories my grandfather couldn't look back at the man at all, yet he described an immense feeling of calm and safety radiating from the presence he could feel watching him over the other side of the stile. Like a powerful predatory guardian of the stile.
That was when grandad saw the body on the edge of the woods.