This was a anecdote I did for a writing project a while ago. I happen to like it for some odd reason, so, I put it on my blog that no one ever reads.
Two Weeks Past and it Happened Again
Creative Writing
March 16, 2008
An old man, bald on the top of his head, wearing glasses and slippers, woke up in the middle of the night to an unidentifiable noise from the down stairs hallway. He made his way down, the stairs creaking for every step he took, attempting to find the source of the sound. He lived alone, all by himself, in a very old house. The lights had a bad habit of going out at the most inconvenient moments, and so, they did. The man took out a small matchbook from his pocket, along with a small handle he often carried with him. He fumbled the items blindly in the dark of the hallway. He managed to get one match, an light it. He moved the flame to the wick of the candle, and had a small amount of light. A bit after the candle was lit, the lights came back on. He assured that the candle was completely out, and placed it back in his pocket. the man preceded down the hall past a bookshelf, and just a few steps past the bookshelf, he came to a sudden stop. Not only was the table lamp moving, but a medium sized bump under the carpet as moving as well. The man would have wanted this to be a dream, but he knew that it never would be. In sudden gruesome reaction, the man picked up a chair and began to hit the bump. It seemed to have a cushion effect, absorbing each and ever impact. He took the leg off the chair, and began stabbing the bump. The bump began to flatten, and slowly started moving towards the wall, seeping under the floorboards, and going beyond.
It was gone.
