John Arthur Nichol

A Noise in the Night: Part 1

One night as I lay in bed I heard a noise that was too strange to be discounted as just something falling. It wasn't crash bang boom loud; it was more a flutter of wings, a scuttle, or as if someone had shaken a piece of material or crumpled something soft. I froze, listening, but it didn't repeat and I drifted back to sleep.

The next morning revealed clues to the night's disturbance. Two foil wrappings from chamomile tea bags, which had been resting happily on the kitchen bench, now lay on the floor between the abandoned planters and an empty cardboard box.

It was bad. very bad.

These teabag wrappers hadn’t fallen by themselves. Something had pushed them.