The closet

Thundering fiddlesticks! This was frustrating like hell. I stretched my legs again and curled them enveloping the blanket around. Everything here was perfect, from the temperature to the smoothness of the bedsheet under me. Even I’d the exhaustion needed for the sweet dreams. This wasn’t getting any better. From the top of my eyes, I glanced beside the lamp, the digital clock radiating ‘3 am’ in bright green. Hah! The devil’s hour. I can’t fathom the stupidity of the creator of this myth.

My eyes itched so I rubbed them for the hundredth time, my hand once again loosing its warmth. It wasn’t that I didn’t sleep at all. Every single time, I realized I was awake, I lifted the heavy lids open and it took half a minute to adjust with the darkness. I’d stare at the knob of the closet in front of me for a while, not blinking, which would grow my eyes weary, drifting me to half an hour of sleep. Sometimes when the window in the corner of my room blew the curtains long enough for it to be practically horizontal in the air, the wind chimes above it would get disarranged filling the ambience with strong klinks.

And so, I stretched my eyes open, the closet in my sight singing lullaby. My eyes blinked at last, the knob turning hazy with every blink. And before the eyelashes met for the last time, something moved. A little motion somewhere in the dark. Raising the lids, I blinked again several times as the water was clouding my vision. And it moved. The knob. A full perfect movement succeeded by a thin, long gap between the doors. I knew I saw it. As I clutched the blanket, it turned moist with sweat. The room was a complete silence,my heartbeats loud and hard. For a second, everything blurred and the chimes shrieked heavily. When the sight returned, I found my windows were closed since the evening. A warm breath on the nape of neck, high goosebumps, and I screamed.

I screamed myself awake, panting and sweating profusely. The clock showed 3:35 am, my thirty five minute nightmare was terrible enough to gather rest away and so my tired eyes searched for the closet door.

Which was wide open.

©Mulberry words