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I made this short story for a friend of mine, and decided to share it with everyone.

I am always afraid to open my windows when I go to bed. I always wait until morning, when I can clearly see outside, it is in fact, bright and sunny. It isn't the fear of darkness or the fear of someone watching through the darkened glass. I don't know why I don't like it.

It was in the evening one day, a half hour before sunset, when I was washing the dishes at the corner sink, water running down my hands, pruning them as I scrubbed the grime off the plates, that I watched the sun set. The golden cast turning to the purple haze of twilight was awe striking, and my eyes were glue to the scene, imagining how some other worldly being must have painted such beauty into existence.

But the moment was brief, the ting of black seeping into the picturesque scene, forcing my hands to shut the blinds. I quickly set the plates to dry, walking to and laying down on my reclining chair. From here, the faint sound of an approaching thunderstorm put me to sleep.


I awoke to the sound of a shatter, my home seemingly broken into. I jumped to my feet, quietly looking around in my alarm to see a branch had come through the sink window, tearing the curtains from the carnage. I walk over, assessing, when I noticed for the first time what made me so afraid of the outside at night. The wall of darkness, beyond the window, wasn't illuminated by my lamp over the sink, not even casting light upon the branch that had fallen through.

I thought this peculiar, so I reached forward to attempt to find the other side of the branch. As I passed the dark threshold, I suddenly feel my arm chill itself, like it had been dunked in ice cold water. I reflexively pull my hand back.

I notice, to my horror, that my hand does not make the trip. It was gone, a fleshy, non damaged nub of an arm, seemingly as if the hand had never existed in the first place. My heart rate picks up, both in fear and curiosity of the strange phenomena that had devoured my arm. I stick the arm further in, to my should, pulling back. This time, the arm comes out, with nothing changed, the hand still missing.

Confused, I leap onto the sink sill, suddenly climbing into the blackness feet first. I shiver as the chill returns, and slide my entire body outside to investigate. I seem to fall, and fall and fall. But I do not fall away, but merely feel to fall. I look back at my home, seeing only the opening of the window. I reach out, trying to grab it, but saw that I couldn't see myself. This coordination between what I felt my position was and being unable to see it left me in a panic, trying to take in air that didn't exist. My vision seems to dark, before I'm suddenly thrust into the kitchen, falling to the ground.

I felt pain through out my body, the dull phantom pains of four missing limbs, two hands, an entire leg up to my knee and a foot. I look at my body in shock, shaking my head, trying to awaken from my nightmare. I feel something clatter to the floor, looking at it.


And there, on the floor, next to a fallen wheel chair, was a tarnished, and somewhat miscared for, Purple Heart.