The Visitor

No matter the horrors the night gives you, I will deliver you come the morning light.

Sweating, waving his arms about him in a fit, Leland DeGrosse awoke in his lonely bed. He sat up panting and slowly got his bearings, looking about the room. The bedside alarm read 04:50, the pale stream of moonlight agreed.

As he stunbled to the bathroom to relieve himself, Leland sifted through his fading memories of the nightmare: he was flying, away from something powerful, so immensely strong that he felt a burning inside him. There was light, so bright that his eyes had started to hurt. And then, there was that voice. It had been so deep and, though Leland struggled for words in his mind, this was the only he found fitting, good. Less like actual speech, he had just known the words, like he had come up with them himself. Incredibly deep, and so infinitely good. He flushed and washed his hands. A moment later, Leland found himself sitting at the kitchen counter, looking out into the night on his poarch. A still image it seemed, perfectly quiet and serene. Its immobility started to first bore and then agitate him. He used to be scared of the dark, though years of confrontational self-exercise had remedied that problem. What disturbed him tonight was the thorough nothing out there. In his bedroom, there had been moonlight, but down here, in front of the woods, a blackness sat, stubbornly, with its back turned to him.

Leland didn’t take his eyes of it as he poured himself a glass of water. He emptied it with a hasty gulp that almost made him choke. Then, he snuck back upstairs, with his back against the wall. Back in bed, he felt safe, with the moon watching over him. Right that moment, Leland decided it was time to go back home. As he drifted off to sleep, the darkness in his yard started to turn, slowly. It opened an eye, took in the scenery, sat down and perceived for a while. To describe life so foreign, humans often lack words. The choice here must always be taken with a grain of salt, as even this narrator cannot comprehend the beings featured, even if the story is entirely of my own imagination. Anyhow, the darkness existed further in the space and observed the realm it had been brought to. Earth. The human world. It did not understand, and so judge. It only perceived.

The morning came, invited by the happy chirping song of birds. The darkness had gone and Leland woke with a feeling of confidence and gratefulness. Ready to seize the day, he jumped in his car and got himself a small breakfast: donuts and a chai latte. After eating, he stuffed a multitude of laundry, toiletries and miscellany into his bag and started off. Towards home. This would not be the end of strange occurrences in the life of Leland DeGrosse.

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