the growling.

at two-thirty in the morning on a semi-dark night, walking slowly down the gravel street as i often do, i heard a growl. 

the focussed beam of my torch was unable to shine any light on what manner of creature was there. i stood still for a few moments, wary, careful, and continued only after listening for a good long while to the more familiar and comforting silence. 

it wasn’t a starlit night: largely cloudy. but there was a moon somewhere lighting it up around the edges. it wasn’t a chilly night: mostly warm. but there was a cool breeze that wasn’t after-all strong enough to affect the trees. they stood at least as still as i had. i’m attracted by the peace of that time of night, often seduced by the complete anonymity of it. if i’m sleepless i’m drawn to it and i’ll maybe see my neighbour’s feral cat, not much else really. so the growl was disconcerting, worrying. it put me on my guard, threw me off my game. 

and as i walked, there it was again: the low soft growl, menacing and close. the focussed beam of my torch was again unable to uncover whatever it was. and whatever it was, while not overtly dangerous, also didn’t sound particularly friendly. so of course i stood still again, wary, careful. and then, encouraged again by the pervasive silence, i carried on.  

however, that time i turned for home, and my pace quickened somewhat. i knew what panic felt like and that wasn’t it. but i saw no reason to hang around, uncertain, uneasy. i felt the warm breeze, the stones under my shoes. only, my attention was elsewhere, a hightened state of alertness, readiness, as i rounded the last bend. i walked quickly across my lawn and in the front door, which for whatever reason i locked behind me. i lay down on the bed still fully-clothed and let my torch fall to the ground.

and there it was again, that low soft growl. right there, in my house, in my room, in my bed... in my body. and i thought to myself: ‘ok, you really gotta cut out those evening coffees,’ as i rolled over onto my side.