Down by the Street Corner

Lately I’ve been having this strange feeling that something demonic has been like… right around the corner. Not here yet… but close.
Well, I just woke up from a vivid nightmare. Those bright red numbers that read 12:32 means it’s exactly midnight.
In my dream we were having a party. Lots of friends, lots of fun. The music is loud and joyous. The company is pleasant and comforting. It must have been some kind of fundraiser, because there is a large pile of change to be counted. In the middle of all this fun, I pause. There’s that feeling again. That presence. Not close. But if you look down by the street corner, you’ll see him. Leaning against the streetlight. Waiting. Biding his time.
Anyway, in my dream, someone is pounding at the back door. Suddenly, my buddy and I are sitting by the front door. Counting change. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. I have enough for another roll of quarters.” We hear the pounding. I wonder if one of us should go get it. “One, two, three, four…” My buddy and I, since the day we met, have this special relationship. “Seven, eight, nine, ten. I have enough for another dime roll.” We are like an old married couple. We finish each other’s sentences; we communicate without speaking a word. Should I check the back door? “Seven, eight, nine, ten. I have enough for another nickel roll.”
I understand. We’ve decided not to answer it.
We are sitting on the floor. “One, Two, Three…” The pile is still very large. “Six, seven…” We have a long night ahead of us. “Nine, ten. I’ve got enough for another penny roll.” It registers that the pounding at the back door has stopped. All is silent. In the moment of calm, the doorbell rings. My buddy and I realize that means that someone is right outside the front door.
The door is open. It swings in. We look and see it. There is this blackness that is just outside the door. Like some black cloud that fills the door opening. It’s moving, not in or out, just swirling.
We are close enough that I can swing the door shut with my foot. I push the door hard expecting a slam. The door that should have latched, swings into the blackness and disappears.
I scream and sit up in bed. Awake! Fully awake.
I walk through the dark house. I search every room without turning on a light. There is no fear. No demonic presence. The creak of the basement door means my buddy left the windows open after the ping-pong game. The rattling chains under the stair way is the water heater, I have to get that fixed. The breathing noise is the pear tree scraping against the window, it hasn’t been trimmed for years. I have no fear as I head off back to bed. I’m not afraid as I check the front door. It’s locked.
Suddenly a flash of darkness. A cold breeze that makes the hair on my arm stand on end. I’m standing by the front window. I make the decision. I will not look out the window. There is no presence here. But I will not look down by the street corner. I will not look to see who’s leaning against the streetlight.

Used by permission of CareActing Company