The heebie-jeebies.

Tonight's a creepy night. One of those nights that makes you want to throw yourself under the covers, head and all, and hide from everything.

I'm lying in bed right now. It's 2:01 in the morning. Everyone's asleep. The house is completely silent. Every creak of the stairs, every shadow that glides over the walls is amplified. And all I can hear is the tapping of my keys, and the wind howling into the night, whipping the tree branches and making my windows rattle.

It was actually a little bit better two hours ago. The blinds were open. I gazed out of my rain-streaked windows and lightning rent the clouds. There was no sign of a moon in the sky, at least from where my window was, but at least there was noise.

Now, not so much.

Shadows loom nebulously on the walls along the hallway leading to my room, flaring, fading. Every now and then, my house groans as the wind blusters around it. It's literally like a scene from a horror movie. Here I am, with no company except the garish light of my computer monitor. My imagination starts running a little wild. Are the shadows behind my door moving? Is my closet door slowly edging open? Feels very Edgar Allen Poe-esque. I can feel my heart drumming a desperate, wild tattoo against my chest, a telltale heart beating so loudly and erratically that anything lurking in the shadows will know I'm here, no matter how much I try to hide. Goosebumps spring up along my arms. My eyes are wide open, and I'm lying here, an easy target, just waiting for whatever is shrouded in the darkness to come get me.

And then it moves. The light outside my door changes. Grows darker. Fingers slowly grip the edge of my doorway. An unmistakable silhouette looms on the wall. It grows larger. Larger. Until it's no longer a silhouette and something, someONE, is standing directly in front of my bed, framed by the doorway. And now it's coming closer, advancing towards me slowly, determinedly, purposefully. I count the seconds till it's on me, knowing that there's nowhere I can run or hide, pinned to my bed by abject terror.

I feel a jolt. My hands instinctively fly to my face, my neck. I am 100% intact, alive and well. Bathed in sweat and wild with terror, but all in one piece. I sink back against my pillows, my breathing slowly returning to normal.

It was just a dream.

Only a dream. Nothing more.

I pull the blanket up to my chin again and try to think about pleasant things. Now all there is to do is wait for the sandman to come for me and give me dreams about unicorns and chocolate factories and puppy dogs. My eyes start to drift closed.

That's when I hear the creak on the stairs.

Is it the sandman?

Probably not.

~*Heat*~