Saturday Morning Disquiet

I close the curtains and one of the rungs snaps

off -

I swirl it in my hands and place it in a cupboard.

It's 2am on a Saturday. The cawing of the birds is the only sound in the darkness and the

TV is bleeding...muted with some old classic horror movie playing

in the background.

A monster stumbles out of an alleyway

across the road from my apartment.

Like God on the top floor, I see him lurch around

before collapsing to the ground.

And then there's a knocking at my door.

I open it, marking the darkness of the hallway in the split second before the motion-sensor lights

come on as they've learnt how a door swings.

Nothing.

But the TV's still bleeding, the lamplight is off and the creaking of my bare feet on the floor terrorises the quiet atmosphere

ever since the birds left.

The disquiet sounds louder in the silence as there is yet again,

a knock

at my front door.

And then again,

I stare into the empty momentary darkness before

the lights come on and bathe

my apartment in a dirty yellow glow.

Nothing.

It's 4am and the birds are back, no longer cawing in the dark

but whistling to remind me the sun is about to rise.

All the lights are off and the television's credits roll then

everything goes black.