I laid in bed ruminating, as I was troubled to fall asleep. The flashing lights still burned my brain. I was late to practice, and it was my fault. When I closed my eyes, I could only see the two headlights, peaking their glow on the arc of the concrete hill. To try to pass the plow truck was stupid of me. I drove recklessly. My mother was rightfully angry. She said that a kid driving recklessly is how my grandfather died. I closed my eyes, headlights, two eyes, and headlights. 

My friend Morgan needed a ride home after every night from fencing practice. I walked down the stone path from his porch to my car. I had a sensation of some unexplainable origin. I felt a face. I was equidistant between the porch and the car. I would not have made it to either if I ran. I felt like prey. I was blind in the darkness except for the garage light, illuminating my car. With all the bravery I could muster, I shouted to the thicket: “Do what you must or let me go my way.” The woods stared at me in silence, so I drove home. 

Like incantations from the depths of my mind, I remembered flashes of it from the woods. I saw a hunched shape of sprawling snow molded on the tree branch. Like deja vu, I remembered it perched like a leopard, watching us stargazing from the driveway. It silently spoke from my memory, but I don’t quite remember what it said. 

Morgan didn’t say much that night. 

Downstairs, I grabbed the melatonin gummies my mother had bought for my sister’s insomnia. After thirty minutes, I closed my eyes, and there was finally blankness. Sunrise nearly surfaced, and it was snowing. I heard mumbling through the wall in my sister’s room. I asked, “What are you saying?” The voice halted, and the door to my room slowly opened. I focused on the space in the door. I waited eagerly. Then I heard a ringing in my ears, like a fire alarm. I felt it rattle and reverberate in my brain. I screamed, I wanted to scream, but

no noise came from my lips. I felt a comforting movement all over my body. It felt like curtains draped on my shoulders and face, down my body to the floor. The screeching turned into breathy whispers. 

I woke up in my closet. The sky was still black. I opened the closet door, confused and fearful. My alarm clock read 3:27. Looking down the stairwell, I saw a weak glow radiating around the wall. There was a sandpaper static that sounded like those Government messages. The T.V. read with large, emboldened letters: Your new friend is in your house. Go and find him. The noise blared a few seconds more, made a choking noise, and ceased. The screen blinked an instant black. 

Now we are the best of friends.