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The Intruder

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Introduction

The Intruder 'It's always best when the light is out, I am the pick in the ice Do not cry out or hit the alarm, you know we're friends 'til we die' - Thom Yorke (Radiohead), 'Climbing Up The Walls' 'Alone. The most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.' Humphrey had read this somewhere, probably in a Stephen King book, he couldn't remember exactly which, but he agreed with the passage then and he sure as hell agreed with it now. Though Humphrey was not alone, he was anything but alone. Humphrey was crumpled into the corner of his bedroom, his arms covering his head, his entire frame trembling, his pores and eyes unreservedly discharging sweat and bitter tears. He sat there in his darkened room with Dread, who poked him mischievously with his cold fingers. With Sorrow, who warped his heart and ate him alive. With Darkness, who shrouded Humphrey and the entire room under his tattered cloak. But worse than any twisted emotion, worse than any mutual deception of the eye and the light, worse than any melancholic betraying thoughts Humphrey may have had, ...read more.

Middle

Silence slithered around the room, but his tyranny was brief and hastily retreated when Humphrey's bedroom door collapsed in with an earth-shattering BANG, rattling Humphrey's brain inside his skull. The Intruder got in. He was a tall man, of medium build, in his mid-thirties with moon-pale complexion, as if the sunlight had only a nodding acquaintance with his skin. The Intruder stood there, looking down at Humphrey with the look of absolute discontent on his face, a sandwich in his hand. And a gun in the other. The Intruder's eyes were dim, with a hint of triumph in them, and Humphrey noticed that he was salivating. 'I find you at last, demon!' the Intruder exclaimed with triumph. He fiddled with his gun, groping it with his index finger. It was not point directly at Humphrey, but it was dangerously close. The Intruder made a slight a motion, which made Humphrey recoil and defensively position his arms in front of his face, as if trying to defend against an incoming strike, but the Intruder merely took a giant bite of his sandwich, the rest of which he tossed away, along with his gun. ...read more.

Conclusion

'Who are you? Where am I?' Humphrey asked, dazed. His eyes were burning 'I'm officer Peter, just call me Peter, and you're in Worthington Hospital, you were brought in last night,' Peter replied in his cheery manner. 'What happened last night?' 'Well, we got a call from your neighbour reporting a break-in, and we came over as soon as we could and came just in time and the intruder is in custody now.' 'What did the intruder want with me?' Humphrey questioned. 'His name was John Gates, and he recently lost his wife in a car accident. Poor man was mad with grief, and was only last week taken into an insane asylum, from which he miraculously escaped and came for you.' Peter nervously answered. 'He...' Humphrey trailed off, 'he kept referring to a third-party who told him to come for me. Are you sure there was no real motive after coming after me?' 'I can only speculate on who he was referring to, but Gates was mad beyond help. That person could have just been a persona, driving him to psychotic acts, which seemed reasonable to Gates.' Peter responded. 'Oh...' They had said their goodbyes and Officer Peter left, leaving Humphrey alone. All alone. Farhad Zulfiqar 1/3 ...read more.

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