Blog #1: Night Seeps Into Day

The day started with a persistent throbbing in Kit’s skull. But as he opened his eyes, he realized it was the rain pattering against his window panes, beyond which he could see nothing but darkness and the haze of city lights. As he automatically reached for his phone on the ebony nightstand, he heard rustling. He froze.

“Who’s there?”

There was no answer.

Though he lived in an apartment on the posher side of the building, there always seemed to be the occasional sound of rusty pipes or creaky floorboards, and so, hearing strange noises in this little apartment wasn’t unusual for Kit. But now things were different. Ever since Mr. Evans -the kindly old man who handed candy to kids- had died, Kit had grown paranoid, double and triple-checking the locks and always placing the watermelon knife in the nightstand drawer.

When his mother had come over the day before with the excuse of bringing him Pot pie, she had said he was going insane. At the time, Kit had wondered if she was right; maybe he was being overly cautious. Nonetheless, a weapon at-hand didn’t seem like a bad idea when one considered the treacherous combination of his nyctophobia and a potential murderer at large.

As Kit held his breath and clutched the knife to his chest, he asked again, “Who is it??” Fortunately, he thought, his voice wasn’t trembling as much as the first time. He leaped lightly out of bed and flipped the switch: no one was there. But before allowing himself to relax, Kit walked into each of the three bedrooms and bathrooms, checking under every table and behind every shower curtain. Finally, he returned to the warmth of his bed, only to be woken by the buzzing of his alarm a half-hour later.

This time, a couple of sun rays were peeking into Kit’s apartment, illuminating it just enough to give Kit the confident stride he lacked in the dark. Easing into his weekday schedule, Kit showered, gave his mother a good morning call, and headed to his first class of the day, Microbiology 201; the night’s events temporarily out of mind.

However, though the things Kit feared the most, nighttime and the darkness that defines it, were gone, the cause of Mr. Evans’ horrific death was still about. So was the cause of the previous night’s rustling. What if the two were, in fact, from the same source?