I have lived most of my young days in Kent .
But,
I must confess that it's marshes scare me each time , I'm there .
In the dark night,
Strange figures are created by the mists and eerie sounds echo throughout the nearby river , filling you with a strange fright .
It was Christmas Eve and I just seven years old .
I was visiting my parents ' graves at the deserted graveyard located in the churchyard on the marshes.
I was uncomfortable enough not to have known my parents in my life time .
All , I could do was read their names that were carved on their gravestone - Philips and Georgiana Pirrup .
My name Philip too,
But ,
As I was unable to pronounce it during my infant years;
I conveniently changed it to 'Pip' - a name I got stuck with for life .
But now ,
As I struggled to remember my parents , I began to cry ...
" Stop that noise now or I'll slit your throat ! "
A scary voice exclaimed.
A heavily - built man crept up on me from behind the graves .He hold my chin in A vice -like grip. He was clad in rough , grey , common clothes and an iron band was clamped around one of his legs .
He was wet , covered from head to toe in mud and shivered because of the chill in the air .
But ,
His eyes were fixed in me , filling me with deep , inexplicable terror .
" Oh , please don't kill me , Sir , "
I pleaded " Don't kill me ! "
" What is your name ? " He demanded .
Tell me quickly !
" Where do you stay ? "