Someone Who Wasn’t There

I was in bed when I

heard you banging

on the door.

You’ve locked yourself out, again, I thought.

I got out of bed,

and still half asleep,

walked through the

apartment,

the blue LED

above the stove

my sole source

of illumination.

The pounding became

more desperate

as I got closer.

I opened the door to a

long dark hallway;

the only light came

from the connecting hall

half-way down.

My eyes were

drawn to it

as it flickered in a

nicotine stain

coloured

florescent.

How mysterious, I thought.

I then turned toward the shadow,

by the fire exit,

to the left of our door.

I thought you were

hidden there

in the gloom

having come back in

after you snuck

out for a smoke.

Someone was there.

It wasn’t you.

There was no one

to be seen,

but I could feel them

and they felt like

rage.

I jumped back,

tried to

close the door,

but the someone,

who wasn’t there,

stuck their foot against it.

It was then that I saw

something

in the darkness,

but there

was no one there.

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2 Responses to Someone Who Wasn’t There

  1. Kurt Rotar says:

    It brings to mind all those times when you think you see something, but then, nothing. I was walking the dog late one night, when she would suddenly stop and look behind us. Of course I look and see nothing. She kept doing this so we turned around and backtracked home. She stopped looking back but instead was straining to see ahead. Now this was a Pug, not the most ferocious of beasts. We finally get back to the house and as we start walking down the steps to the front door, she looked to her left. I followed her gaze, and sitting at the top of the driveway was a rather large coyote. Good dog.

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