text: On hot nights like these, I always sleep with the window half open. Sometimes the wind howls, or the rain pelts the pearly sill that silently sits abase the glass panels on my window, carrying the weight of damp potted plants and a cracked ashtray. Those sounds never bother me though, they’re almost soothing, like white noise. The noise that sliced through the tranquil silence was however far from soothing. From the inky darkness out my bedroom window I hear the weathered creak and rattle of my back gate amidst the bustling of shrubs and dancing of branches. The eerie wail of the gate’s hinges burst through the darkness, a screech so thick it could paint a path in the night sky. It crawls its way through the ajar window and pierces my ears no matter how hard I toss and turn to ignore it. The sound is drawn out and unbothered, as if the gate itself is gingerly inching its way open. "Just the wind," I tell myself, rolling over, digging deep into my pillow so my ears are shielded from the groan of my back gate. The wind must have just blown the gate open, the latch was rusted and old anyways, probably came loose, or maybe I even left it open, I’m far too busy to even check for such little things anyw-. The return to silence breaks my train of thought, the recollection billowing up into nothingness like the smoke of my last cigarette that sits alone in the empty ashtray. Buried under the safehaven of my pillows, I sit on the cusp of drifting back to sleep, and for a moment, I feel the release of nothingness. However, following the brief escape of tranquility comes a loud bang, one that rattles and shutters as it bounces off the stars, echoing throughout the night air. This sound is one I could not ignore; it was as if the gate was forcibly thrown shut. My spine goes rigid and shoots me up where I lay. I can hear the latch chittering as its rusty grasp wanes against the collision of wood and metal seemingly pushed into it. As I now sit in my bed, wide awake, I continue to tell myself, “it’s just the wind.” It’s rational, a quick, rash breeze had just thrown the gate shut just as its soft kiss had gradually inched it open. Then it came again. piercing again through the silence, a sharp creak. While the last had drawn out for about a minute or so, this one is fast, crying out into the darkness for just shy of ten seconds before it too is abruptly silenced by another bang. Then it came again. The gate shrieks as it is now thrown open, and shudders against its latch as it is closed. Going on and on, over and over again the pace only picks up, Creeeeeak...Bang! Creeak...Bang! Creak...Bang! Creak...Bang! Creak...Bang! Creak...Bang! Creak...Bang! Cowering once again behind my shield of cotton and feathers, I wrap my pillow around my stinging ears, begging it to stop, until, just as it had so quickly begun, it ceased. The final thud comes, followed by familiarity, and security, of nothing. Not even the wind dares to make a sound now, a deafening silence blankets the darkness. Where one may find security, I only find worry. The air is hot and though the wind dare not blow, a chill lingers on my skin. My stomach sits upside down, tied in a knot, my hands clenched, gripping the sheets to bring them close to my cheeks. I finally lay back down, and try to sleep, it’ll all be gone if I just sleep. But in the back of my mind, I can't keep telling myself that it was just the wind. Though, without a means of rationalizing the situation, I instead choose to just drift back into my sleep. Time passes, but I do not know how much, in a sleep-ridden daze, I sit up, and once again, a sharp noise breaches my veil of silence. Focusing, I come to my senses, realizing this noise now comes from inside my house. Barking. Reggie has a high and squeaky bark, more like a yip to be frank, fit for his tiny frame. He's the farthest thing from a guard dog, but still, his courage never waivers, courage that I could use right now. His chain of barks is unwavering, carrying on in a crescendo of yelps akin to the fire alarm. At least I know for certain that this is not just the wind. Though I am weary of the uncertainty lurking down in the yard, I turn and step out of bed, Reggie’s barking about something, and I need to get him back to bed. My feet meet the floor with a frigid greeting. As if even the warm summer air had been scared off, the hardwood is cold to the touch. Stepping down my stairs, it is now clear Reggie sits at the large sliding glass back door, snarling at something in the darkness. He is unbothered as I creep up behind him, and when I reach out to touch him, his fur stands on end, dancing in waves with every bark. Looking into the unforgiving wall of dark, I strain to see past my own reflection. Pressing my eyes so hard against the glass that I might fall through, I see the backyard sits empty and still. My shaky breath gently fogs up the glass, moving back with a wipe of my sleeve, the backyard remains stagnant through the clear door. A wave of relief begins to surge through me, realizing there really is nothing there. Turning around to go back upstairs, Reggie presses close to my calf, his snarling silenced. “What is it, boy?” I ask, kneeling down to run my hand along his back. He doesn’t even glance at me, his eyes unwavering, his gaze present only in the yard in front of us. Getting one last look, my heart drops. I see it, In the back corner of the empty yard, I can barely make out its lanky figure amidst the shadows and bushes. It stands, as still as Reggie and I, as if it too is terrified of what lies in front of it. Finally, his long, thin leg begins lurching its way across the dewey grass. It moves in a way so animated, my paned backdoor could be a TV screen. Exaggerated lifts of each leg halt in a lunge, landing on the tip of its toe much like a ballerina trapped in the heat of a dance. With each step it swings its arms merrily, almost as if it truly is dancing. In just shy of three bounds, it has moved across half the yard, rigidly facing me once again. It’s now escaped the shadows, and my gaze remains trapped on its unique figure. Seeing it fully, it stands at nine or ten feet tall, and its skin bares such a pale gray, it reflects the moonlight as if it was basking in the sun. Its limbs hang in a way that is uncanny, stretching long and high, dangling at its side in an almost cartoonish fashion. Though its face remained shadowed, its eyes stared into mine, seeing through me from across the backyard, even past the apparent security of the lightless kitchen. Raising one long, gray limb up to its head, it gives a slow, curling wave, bowing and tilting its head to the side as it did so, before turning back around and continuing its inhuman stride across the yard. Its long gray limbs cheerfully swing. It is moving so fast, yet so slow, like light passing through water, and though its steps come down heavy, it meets the grass with silence. Reaching the border of my yard, one long step extends its leg over my neighbor’s fence and into their yard, the gray pale head disappearing from my sight, sinking behind the wood. Reggie’s muscles finally relax, and for a moment I stand, basking in the silence, grasping at straws to decipher what had just happened. Slinking up to bed, I swiftly shuffle across my hall, Reggie close behind me. In long lunges my feet silently meet the carpeted floor, carrying my muddled mind to the sanctuary of my bed. Lying under the covers, my mind is finally appeased, sinking slowly into the comfort of sleep. My eyes go heavy, and my mind shuts off, all I now know is darkness as silence fina- Crreeeeeeeak...Bang! Screeching its way through the still air of my home, I shoot up in my bed, as I hear the sound of my basement door slowly opening, before it is swiftly thrown shut.