My nana used to tell me the poem "The Highwayman" when I was little. Of course, a lot of it made no sense to me, but I was smart enough to know being gagged and bound was a frightning experiance. And my dad was a landlord. So I always believed the poem was about me, sort of a phrophecy. Every time it was really windy and dark, when the reflection of the full moon bounced on the waves, I would scream and cry until morning, hoping the hi way man with a twinkly butt ("his pistol butts a twinkle") wouldn't come and get me.
A childhood belief about monsters
others believed things like this
- I thought a highwayman was just someone who helps pave the road and stuff like that— Nate
- I used to believe that the trees made it windy.— Dave
- The moon is full of wotsits.Anon
- I used to believe that the full moon was God's flashlight.Anon
- I used to believe that the waves in the ocean were made from whales swimming by...— Tina
- I used to believe that waves were made by whales who lined up in a row and flapped their tails.— Passionola