It was different from the usual noises that an old house makes when the timber and roofing iron cools down after dark and makes the odd thump or bang. I listened for a few moments and was sure that there was a furtive movement at the end of the house.
I got up, pulled on some shorts, grabbed a torch and made my way down the passage. I kept the torch turned off as there was a bit of moonlight coming through the windows. I checked out the snooker room. Nothing. I then checked the rooms at the back of the house - lounge and kitchen, bathroom and laundry, first spare bedroom, second spare bedroom. Nothing. I was about to go back to bed and then had a creepy feeling that if someone had got in - I had left a window open - then they might be hiding in the wardrobe in the second spare bedroom. I turned on the light, threw open the wardrobe doors and ........
THERE
............ was nothing other than clothes. There was no crazy person peeking out. No axe-armed murderer lurking. No deranged intruder looking to make trouble.
I closed the cupboard doors and the window and went back to bed.
* Nothing happened.
7 comments:
A post about nothing. How very Seinfield.
Seinfeld. I just checked the spelling.
Yes, it pays to be thorough.
Like the content of your post.
You like it?
Thanks.
Well, to be honest, I think you're a bit homophonic.
Now, be careful how you take that.
No time to post today then?
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