He was woken by a sound across the other side of the room.
Knowing that there was nothing in his room that could produce such a noise of its own accord he began to suspect that perhaps there was an intruder. Turning on the light, however, he saw nothing and, listening close, he heard even less.
He began to surmise that perhaps he couldn't see the intruder because whoever they were they had the power to render themselves invisible. And perhaps he couldn't hear the intruder because whoever they were they had been trained to move so terribly slowly so as not to betray their presence.
It mattered little because by the time he had put such thoughts out of his head, lambasting himself for being silly and irrational, the intruder had already imperceptibly and silently snuck out.
everywhere I look is a darkness
Written on Thursday, 23 June 2005