A normal day. Just returned from Thanksgiving break. I get out of a nice hot shower, and wrap myself in an oversized, downy robe. Humming to myself, I walk to my room. I begin to scan through my closet for an outfit to wear. Then I freeze.
I see it. I see it. Watching from the darkness, his evil concealed, but never sleeping.
The elf. Hiding in a box by my bed.
My blood runs cold.
How long he has been there I know not. I shudder thinking of the nights I might have fallen asleep with him but a foot away, waiting. Watching. Whispering. Reporting my movements to
Mordor the North Pole. Were not there times I heard a scratching noise in the darkness, which I dismissed as the sounds of the city? His gaze pierces through cloud, shadow, earth and flesh.
(See the first Elf post here.
See this year's Return of the Elf here.)
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