It was Gary that woke him, a few days later, rolling out of bed at 3am to go to the toilet, pulling the covers with him.
'Sorry,' he mumbled.
'No worries,' John said. He hadn't been sleeping particularly deeply.
'I need to stop drinking tea at night.'
'You're getting old man bladder.'
'Yeah,' Gary said, laughing as he stumbled out to the upstairs bathroom.
John stood, stretched, rubbed his eyes. When they focused, they landed on the window, and he found himself, almost on autopilot, walking over to it.
The night outside was quiet. The only noise coming in through the slightly open window was the rustling of leaves, the wind singing a disjointed symphony as it brushed its way through them. The moon beat down on the front yard unhindered. There, on the boundary of their house, was the creature. It didn't move, it didn't seem to breathe. It just stood, and watched, and waited, and smiled.
Gary came back from the toilet.
'All good?'
'Yeah,' John said.
'And your creature? Any sign of it?'
He felt the heat of Gary pressing up behind him, warm hands wrapping round his stomach. The creature tilted its head, smiling. John ignored it.
'No,' John said. 'None. Guess I must have been imagining things.'
'Good,' Gary said. 'Good. Let's go back to bed.'
YOU ARE READING
Fresh Mountain Start
Short StoryJohn's husband, Gary, wanted to get out of the city. He wanted to be a homeowner, to live the good life in the countryside, away from the hustle and bustle, and somehow, he talked John into it. For Gary, everything is perfect. For John, not so much...
