Shadows that when gazed upon for too long seem to undulate and writhe, oozing as if they've been pinned against the wall still alive.
The green cyclops timepiece standing vigilant against the shadows behind it, it's gaze ever forward, not throwing enough of it's own light to throw shadows upon the opposite wall.
The sharp rattle of the air conditioner coming to life to spew forth cold air seems to snap the shadows back into focus, standing them ramrod straight again. Until they seem to grow accustomed to the rattling hum from the window unit, then the life pours back into them again.
It's then that he slinks into the room, seemingly unnoticed. Seemingly. Acting as one of the shadows but seen out of the corner of an eye. He's not paying enough attention and will get caught.
Attracted to the sounds of a man gasping for air in his sleep, seeming to sigh when the mans body shudders and remembers that it's main function at this point is to breathe for the sleeping man.
The shadow stalking the night draws closer with each gasping inhale, backing away again when the mans body spams and reminds itself to breathe again.
The room feels heavier, more crowded when the shadow stalks into the room. He's startled as the window unit rattles to life once more, he backs away from the man again, keeping a distance. Perhaps thinking the air conditioner is some sort of warning device.
The man oblivious to the happenings around him continues to try to maintain sleeping peacefully, his snores and gasps for air keeping the shadow in the night hopeful.
As I lay awake I whisper into the air of the bedroom 'Not tonight' and every morning sit up, inhale deeply and with my exhalation state 'And not today'.
Death visits my bedroom, he stalks my husband and keeps me awake at night. At least if the LED wasn't in the bedroom, I wouldn't have to see him.
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