A Stranger Calls At Midnight

A stranger calls at midnight, he doesn’t say a word. I hear him smirk, clueless, I am curious. A stranger calls at midnight, he doesn’t speak a thing. I hear him breathe, intruded, I am angry. A stranger calls at midnight, he doesn’t ask anything. I hear him laugh, intimidated, I am scared. When a stranger calls night after night at midnight my anger turns into curiosity that doesn’t last long for it’s gripped with fear of a danger unknown and unseen hiding behind the clicking smirk, growing in the heavy breath and brewing in the mysterious laughter. A danger lurking unknown and unseen is more fear-some than the one staring in the eye. Every night I am awake when a stranger calls at midnight. I am mad and scared, and want to throw the telephone at the stranger’s face that would bleed and the blood would smear his smirk, choke his breath and transform his laughter into a groan. I would then sleep safe and in peace. I couldn’t deface a stranger invisible as my imagination, but as real as the clock on the desk ticking time and creating a bond of sort between me and the mute stranger who calls at midnight. It is five minutes to midnight. I wait for the call from the stranger and wonder what would I hear …. the sound of smirk, breath or laughter I can’t predict. The clock strikes midnight, but no call comes. I wait sleepless the mysterious night, but no call comes. The invisible stranger now knows perhaps he has become a part of me and I can’t scare me anymore not even in lonely nights of introspection. The fear disappears as the stranger dissolves within.