authors note: this took only twenty minutes so that's why it sucks and i don't know what it is
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A light goes on in the house opposite ours.
I am nestled in the chair hammock, on the back deck. My blanket surrounds me and I am wrapped in warmth as the breeze lightly touches my skin. It is night. No one in the house is awake. On our whole street and the street connecting to ours, from which I can see that streets houses from my back deck, everything and everyone are asleep. I am the last person awake and outside in the block. It is a nice feeling. I can be alone.
But a light goes on in the house across from us, and suddenly everything is quiet, silent, and a sense of eerie feeling shrouds me, trapping me in it's clammy and constricting hands. I am cold and I can't shake this feeling. It is just a light, I remind myself. Nothing to be afraid of. It is just a simple action made by the people in the house, an outstretched arm and a flick of a finger to flood a bulb with light.
But the house has been empty for weeks.
Not deserted. Just empty. The family are on vacation, they left for Rome three weeks ago. There are no house sitters, just a very good alarm system and heavily bolted doors.
Maybe they've come back early. Maybe they've asked a friend to check on their house for them. But I haven't seen a car go down their street all day, I haven't heard anything. The only perceivable movement in that house was the action of turning on the light at 12.36am.
Maybe it wasn't turned on. Maybe the bulb is at fault. Maybe they thought it blew but since they were leaving they thought it best not to change it until they arrived home, and it was fine, and flickers on and off randomly.
My anxiety squeezes my insides to a pulp. Still, for some unknown, stupid reason, I do not leave the back deck. I stay in my hammock, staring, staring.
It's the light. I want to see it turn off. I want my fears to be relaxed in yet another simple movement of a light switching off, something that would not be troubling me if I had thought nothing of it. My curious brain likes to take control sometimes. If something is odd or interesting or both I will watch and wait, and sometimes even interfere. But tonight is not the night for interference. I do not fancy a night walk in nothing but a duvet, so sitting here, watching the window suits me just fine.
I see no movements within the house. In fact I haven't seen any since the light went on. Must be the bulb, then. Let's face it. There are no people in there.
It's the bulb, I think. I sit up.
It's the bulb, I murmur.
It's the bulb, I whisper. I stand and step forward, craning my head and tilting it to the side to get a better view in.
It's the bulb, it's the bulb, it's the bulb, I speak aloud, crossing my fingers and wriggling my toes.
It isn't the bulb.
Goddammit, why isn't it the bulb.
Suddenly, amidst my hectic chanting and affirmations that it is in fact the bulb that is causing the light at now 12.42am, a face appears in the window.
I let out a silent scream that ends in a small squeak. The face is white, lily white. It looks at me. I can see it's eyes, dark circles in contrast to the color of the face. Hands raise to the glass to join the face. Once, twice, thrice it bangs on the glass. It doesn't blink or move it's face, it just keeps staring, staring. At me.
It isn't a ghost, I say. It's not. It can't be.
I am not a large believer in the supernatural. How can I see something I do not believe exists? Maybe I do, now.
