As a child, I’d loved this forest; maybe because it was where I went to get away from the cottage, and the dark, brooding pressure of my Grandfather’s presence. But something had changed. The woods no longer seemed like a place of reprieve. I felt that I was being… not watched, per se, but noticed, and that it wasn’t a friendly kind of noticing.--Written by Alexander Saxton.Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com/thewrongstation.The Wrong Station contains explicit content and mature themes. Episode-specific warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com/c-w. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices