This flash fiction was inspired by some comments made by a writer denying the existence of the supernatural etc. I pretty much agree with that position, though such things are indispensible for most of my stories, but he was being so smug, and smug people often make me want to be contrary.

I went out in the 1984 hurricane, the one that Michael Fish famously dismissed, and my hat got blown off. I last saw it heading in the direction of Dereham, a town five miles from where I live. I really miss that hat.


            Once upon a time there was a young man, a student of philosophy who refused to believe in the invisible world. He proved by means of irrefutable logic that existence lacked a spiritual dimension, that belief in such things could not reasonably be maintained in the face of an uncaring and mechanistic universe. This young man was so pleased with his own cleverness that he typed up his conclusions in an article and printed out copies to submit to New Scientist, Fortean Times and other respected academic journals.

            He was halfway to the post office when the wind seized hold of his hat and sent it scurrying off across the fields, never to be seen again.

I went to see Genesis on the Invisible Touch Tour when they played Wembley Stadium. Happy days!

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