In the Wee Small Hours

Perhaps it’s that I’m currently working on organising Ben’s account of his experiences that is causing increased strangeness but whatever it is, it’s certainly odd.

I had been asleep, a fairly rare occurrence I have to say, when a sudden noise woke me. It was most definitely the creak of a floorboard on the landing. Then it came again. I knew I was alone in the house (apart of course from a pile of sleeping, farting Labradors in the kitchen) and I knew it wasn’t the house cooling or warming. Then it came again. Human intruder didn’t cross my mind, we’re so remote here it’s doubtful anyone could find us anyway! Then I knew, with certainly, that if I opened my eyes what time would be showing on the bedside clock. So I lay there  little longer, a little longer still. Finally, I had to open them. Sure enough, it was 1.23.

Having been reading the works of Whitley Strieber recently (for research purposes) I knew this was a common sign. 1.23, 2.34, 3.45. Very popular with the visitors apparently. Yes, I’m probably in a heightened state of suggestibility at the moment but I sure my bedroom door moved, I’m sure I had the vaguest view of a small scuttling figure, there but not there. Then it was morning. I was bathed in sweat and had (have) a violent headache. Life is getting very interesting.


About edwardchunter

Hello, my name is Edward Hunter. I sit at home in the Dower House on the Strathnuin Estate and scribble about the adventures of my nephew Archie and his father Magnus, my older brother. Thanks to my gammy leg I don’t get to participate in this exciting world so I must content myself with writing about it. You can find my first book Windigo on Amazon
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