this could be anywhere in the world
ever try falling asleep in a haunted house?
ever lie in bed, covers pulled high against your neck, and feet kept safely away from the edges, eyes squeezed shut?
you hum to yourself, out of tune, and the more you try to convince yourself you don't really hear anything, the more you become convinced that you do. every creak is a footstep, every shadow some evil monster in the dark, and you know it will all seem silly in the morning, but that doesn't make the time go by faster, doesn't make the sun rise.
when i was about ten, i became convinced, lying in my bed one night, that i could hear something writing at my desk. the familiar scritch scritch of pencil to paper was unmistakeable, i told myself... and unrelenting. i worked myself into such a state of terror for such a length of time that i'm surprised i didn't suffer heart failure.
when i eventually got up the nerve to turn on my bedside lamp- convinced i'd be confronted by some ghastly spectre- i discovered it was nothing more than the heat wafting up from the radiator and rustling the papers on my bulletin board.
but the truth is that for a brief period of time it was real, and you wouldn't have convinced me otherwise.
everyone knows that ghosts dry up in the light.
and love is always over in the morning.
ever lie in bed, covers pulled high against your neck, and feet kept safely away from the edges, eyes squeezed shut?
you hum to yourself, out of tune, and the more you try to convince yourself you don't really hear anything, the more you become convinced that you do. every creak is a footstep, every shadow some evil monster in the dark, and you know it will all seem silly in the morning, but that doesn't make the time go by faster, doesn't make the sun rise.
when i was about ten, i became convinced, lying in my bed one night, that i could hear something writing at my desk. the familiar scritch scritch of pencil to paper was unmistakeable, i told myself... and unrelenting. i worked myself into such a state of terror for such a length of time that i'm surprised i didn't suffer heart failure.
when i eventually got up the nerve to turn on my bedside lamp- convinced i'd be confronted by some ghastly spectre- i discovered it was nothing more than the heat wafting up from the radiator and rustling the papers on my bulletin board.
but the truth is that for a brief period of time it was real, and you wouldn't have convinced me otherwise.
everyone knows that ghosts dry up in the light.
and love is always over in the morning.