The Nighttime Intruder

A fictional rendition of a true story

I headed to bed later than usual that night. For a parent of a toddler that normally has reached a state of total exhaustion by 8:00 PM, I was up until 11:00 PM that evening after carving out a window of time to watch a movie for myself that didn’t include Blippi or Cocomelon. Not that hearing the song “Garbage Truck” over and over again wasn’t the most entertaining thing in the world, but a movie to oneself now and again, even if it means staying up past 8:00 PM, was something I found the energy to do every once in a while.

I settled into bed, warmly snuggled up under my softest blue fleece blanket, quitely dozing off to bed. Suddenly, I started hearing a knocking sound on my window. My heart started rapidly pounding. My breathing became faster and more shallow. I started to sweat. What was outside my window? Do I creep out of my bedroom to quietly call for help? Do I turn on the lights to startle the nighttime visitor and hope to scare him off? When we panic, we all have different instincts. I was one who froze. Whatever decision I made, how was I going to even bring myself to move?

I lay there quietly thinking while the knocking continued. My heartbeat became faster. How quickly the evening had changed from a soon to be peaceful slumber to a moment of high stakes decision making.

I decided that before jumping to conclusions, I’d be brave enough to creep to the window and look out. I honestly hoped that turning on the lights would scare away the evening’s…