Creative Writing?

As I said yesterday, one of my most favorite guilty pleasures is reading - and because of that, I've also enjoyed a dabble or two in creative writing in my time.  Though, as I also said, they never amounted to anything other than a near carbon copy of what I'd just finished reading.

I'm not that great at it, well, I guess I may be a little to hard on myself here - I've never shown it to anyone, so I don't know what I can (or cannot) do.  I thought maybe, MAYBE, I'd put a little something on here, and see what you all thought?   Go easy on me know, I haven't displayed this since 9th grade English in Mrs. Long's Class!

She woke with start, she heard something - she knew she did.  But what was it?  Where had it come from?

There!  There it was again.   A soft sound, a light tapping maybe?  Perhaps it was just a branch, the wind wishing her sweet dreams - or at least, a full nights rest.

This had to stop - two hours of sleep each night is hardly enough for her to function on, she has a dance studio to run!  How can she teach discipline, and healthy lifestyles to her dancers, if she herself doesn't abide by her own rules?  

Angrily she slaps her pillows and turns over to the other side, now she's facing her window.   The moonlight was playing gently across her floor, the area rug took on an eerie glow - almost iridescent.  

Yeah, she thought, that'll help me sleep.  Make my floor glow.  

Grumbling, she thrust herself into a standing position, she carefully - slowly - made her way across the floor towards the window.  When she got there, she closed the curtains - gently, they were her favorite set.  No reason for them to suffer because of her lack of sleep.

Glancing at the clock she realized it was still night - not even close to morning.   Awesome.  Just what she needed, to be awake - wide awake - at 11pm.   She'd gone to bed at 9:30 - seriously, an hour and a half - wonderful.  She debated on taking a sleeping pill, if she took it now, half a dose even, she could count on 6 hours of sleep.  Not fitful sleep, not restful sleep - just sleep.  Debate over, she headed for her bathroom.

There!   That sound again!  What was it?  That soft tapping again, what could it be?  

It can't be a branch, I'm hearing it away from the windows now - she thought.

Walking carefully, slowly, deliberately to the bathroom she paused ... BANG!  She stopped, dove to the floor and looked around.

She didn't see anything, didn't hear anything else.  Shaky, she stood, brushed herself off and carried on towards the bathroom.  Flipping on lights as she went.

When she got there, and turned on the light, she saw a cabinet door standing open.

Now, how would that happen?  She pondered to herself.

BANG!   Diving to the floor again, she thought, this cannot go on!!!

Getting up, one last time, she decided to check things out - no longer thinking she was being silly, and paranoid.  There was something going on, and she intended to find out.

Padding down the stairs to the first floor, she flipped light switches, opened doors, checked window locks.  All appeared to be okay.  No signs of anyone, or anything, present.   Hmmm, this is odd, perhaps I AM being paranoid.

As she rounded the corner at the base of the staircase, she noticed a light from beneath her kitchen door.  She knew she'd turned that off before heading upstairs - or well, she thought she had.  It's possible she  had forgotten - but just in case, she grabbed the fire poker as she passed.  Better to be safe.


Slow stepping through the hall towards the kitchen entry way, gently pushing the swinging door open ... MEEOOOWWWWWW ... Sampson jumped off the counter and screeched past her feet.   Gasping in shock, she clutched her chest and laughed at herself.   How silly, it was just Sampson - though, she didn't remember leaving the light on in the kitchen.   Carefully continuing through the doorway, fire poker leading the way, she carefully picked her way in.  


Looking through the room, she didn't see anything out of the ordinary, just the light over the sink - that she swore she turned off - was on.   Strange.


Flipping the switch, and shaking her head, she headed back towards her room, Sampson following close at her heels.  The journey back to her room was a quick and silent one, punctuated only by the clicking of the switches as she went.  


Closing her bedroom door behind her, she took stock of the night that lay before her.  A few more hours of sleep really would be the perfect antidote to her paranoia.   Unsure of just what she had heard, and just why she didn't find anything when she searched she climbed back into bed.  Settling in she was a little more than unhappy.  By now, the clock beside her read 2am.  How had that much time passed?  Did she really creep that slowly through her own house?  And why?  Because of a light tapping sound?   She had to get a grip.


Just as she began to doze, the sound started up again, a little more insistent, and a little louder too.  Truth be told, she was tempted just to ignore it, though if she did, and it was someone - or something - needing help, she'd never forgive herself for letting it go unnoticed.  Climbing out of bed once again, she picked up the fire poker she had laid beside her.  Creeping to the door, leaving the lights off this time, the hair on the back of her neck began to prickle. 


Stepping into the hallway she followed the sound, once again, to the kitchen door.  Gently opening the door and peering inside, she at last found the source of the tapping.


Sampson had climbed up on the counter again, and was batting the drawstring to the blinds against the glass.  Laughing at herself, and her foolish cat, she stepped into the kitchen and began to speak,
"Sampson!  you silly animal, you scared me nearly to bits!"  She grabbed him off the counter, and began to turn towards the door, just then the light turned on.


Gasping, clutching Sampson tighter, she swung around, fire poker first and jabbed blindly.  Striking nothing at first, she jabbed again, and again, crying out as she did.  After what seemed like an eternity of hitting nothing, and everything, she opened her eyes to realize she was crying, Sampson was trembling, and she had nearly destroyed her kitchen.


There was no one there with her, which of course, could have been because she reacted like a mad woman, or because no one was there to begin with.  The light, was off.   


Shaking her head, she made her way through the kitchen, and back to her room.  Checking and rechecking the doors and windows as she went.  
I knew it was a bad idea to live alone in such a big house, she thought wildly.


Back in her room - for the second time that night - she closed the door behind her, and placed Sampson on her bed.  Checking her bedroom window, she happened to catch a glimpse of a car driving off into the night.   That seems odd, it's 2am, who would be out driving at such an hour?


Still battling to catch her breath, and calm her frayed nerves, she sat on the edge of the bed.  Sampson sprung up from where he lay and began purring uncontrollably.  


"There, there pretty cat, I'm sorry I startled you.  I seem to have startled myself too.  Perhaps it's time I call the doctor about this paranoia and sleeplessness, hmmm?"


As she lay down again, this time with Sampson at her side, and the fire poker in her other hand, she drifted into an easy sleep.


Tap, Tap, Tap.


Her eyes flung open and her breath caught.

Tap, Tap, Tap.


You can't be serious, she thought, not again!   This time, however, she waited, and didn't get out of bed to go in search of the source.  Instead, she listened. 

Tap, Tap, Tap.


It was getting softer, and there didn't seem to be a sense of urgency in it anymore.  It was a gentle, almost lulling sound.   She let herself drift again, this time allowing herself to give into the urge to fall asleep, and stay that way.


When her alarm rang, barely three hours later, she reached over, petted Sampson's neck and hit the snooze button.  Surely a few more minutes wouldn't hurt, after her restless night she needed more than three hours of sleep.   The dancers at her school would appreciate it as well, she giggled, she'd be less crabby.   Then, as she started to drift again ...


Tap, Tap, Tap.