The Intruder

The hour was late but his eyes were wide open.

Staring into the darkness he looked at his fluoroscet alarm clock. Time had been cruel to him this night. 10 minutes had passed since the moment he had switched off the lamp to head for slumber but it had seemed like had been waiting for hours for the sandman to come. He was always amazed by the fact that how in complete darkness, although his eyes were of no use, his other senses would hike up their efficiency levels tenfold. In the absence of light, there were only sounds that could be his link to the rest of the world, although a touch more sinister.

Dependant on what he could hear and touch,(he was not sure if tasting and smelling things at this hour would be very beneficial)he observed his surroundings and heard the ticking of the clock as each second passed him by with a morose continuum. He felt the soft feathers in his pillow as he turned his head from time to time, trying to lie in the best position to sleep comfortably in. Despite all kinds of efforts to let his conscious drift into the subconscious, he only made it harder.

Ten minutes had passed with his attempts and was just waiting for the night to pass him by when he heard something that made his thoughts of sleep vanish in an instant. From outside his window and into his ears reached the tune of a whistle that one would make while driving a car or while listening to a song. And it seemed to be getting louder and louder.

Frozen in shock and fear, he couldnt even move to switch on the light and see who it was outside. He imagined a man in a hat and coat whose silhouette would hide his scarred face as he would stick his face in the window and scare you to death. He chose to remain numb and silent in his fear with all his concentration on his heart thumping against his chest as he held his breath to ensure no sign of life reached outside.

In his panic and mortal fright, he didnt realise when the whistling had subsided and vanished into the night, the sound of the clock was back with its monotonous ticking. His anxiety did not vanish away though for now he felt that this silence would be broken with a loud knock on the window or even wore, the sound of breaking glass. He waited for his captor to strike first so that he may retort, by screaming like a little girl and running for his life. But the moment never came.

His whistling visitor had left him for another night but his thoughts still lingered in his head, haunting him for the many nights to come, dreading the worst when he heard a whistle in the distance or a knock on the door.

And on that very night, standing on the other side stood a visitor indeed, a tiny bird lost in the city who had found a window to sit on to but not for too long.