The subject of evil is something that preoccupies us all. Evil exists in the absence of compassion, filling a void created by hatred and loathing. But what is more frightening ? - the prospect of others doing evil unto us, or the thought that we might have the capacity to do evil unto others?

For centuries folklore has explained uncharacteristic outbursts of evil with the notion of being possessed. When someone with no track record for evil commits an atrocity, we seek comfort in the idea that their actions are driven by demons that have taken hold of them. Of course, this is simply not true. The demons are always there, waiting to be summoned up with the right word or phrase. Right now, even You are only a few short breaths away from losing control…

Geoffrey Stokes was small in stature and quiet by nature. Like many quiet children, he made adults uneasy and other children suspicious. Scholarly and withdrawn, Geoffrey lived his life in an inexplicable no-man’s-land. What was he thinking? Why wouldn’t he talk? Only Geoffrey really knew. At school, teachers marked his work but had little interest in the mop-headed loner. His distant, wide-eyed stare made them feel uncomfortable. He usually went unnoticed by the other kids, unless they were bored. When rain stopped the football or the children grew tired of ‘Cowboys and Indians’, they would make him the subject of cruel games.

A particular favourite was “Poke Stokes”. It was a simple ritual. The children would run round and around the boy, each with a finger outstretched, pointing at him. As they ran in circles, they would all chant “Poke Stokes! Poke Stokes!”. Then, one by one, they would take it in turns to rush up to him and jab him with a finger before running away to rejoin the spinning carousel of uncaring grins. The prodding would gradually escalate until young Geoffrey was completely surrounded by the children poking him repeatedly. The game was deemed to be over only when he had fallen to the floor, curling into a ball like a hunted animal.

Some days, Geoffrey was left alone completely. He would walk home after school thankful that he had been invisible and hopeful that the ordeal was now truly over. But his hopes were invariably dashed as soon as the fear had passed.                                                          

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