Postmaster General
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The Man made out of Sugar
Amazed at the insanity of this note, I was not sure what to expect. I showed my friends the wierd inscription on the old tattered page, but they just said it was an old carnival gag.
"Yea, you're probably right," I said as I continued their jest. "The old bag was half-off her rocker anyways." My mocking tone hardly reflected my worried anticipation. I continued on with my friends, as we left the carnival, unease settling within me all the while. Seeing my discomfort, my friends decided to take me out to the bar, to take my mind off of things. Alchohol slowly drowned any contemplations I had of the gypsy.
Later that night, I sat in bed at home. The odd occurings had long left me. As I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the shadows on the walls began to move. Turning my head, I stare intently at the shadowy visages which have begun to take shape.
The image cast by the light outside cast silhouettes onto my walls. What were once tree branches, now became hands. Utility boxes became stout little legs, topped by a plump torso. I rubbed my eyes, thinking the drinks were simply getting the better of me.
The appearance did not change, and I turned away. I shut my eyes, covered my ears with my pillow, and created a bunker in my bed in which I sat, hoping the images were only in my head.
Silence, I sat for what seemed like ages. There was no movement, no sound. I peaked open one eye and saw that there was also no light. The illumination which was cast by the street lamp outside had ceased. An unlucky coincidence, I thought.
I turned over and returned my gaze to the wall on which the shadowy transformations had taken place. There was now no light from which the shadows could be cast, and I let out a sigh of relief, it seemed as though I was safe.
"Come on, man! Get it together, it's just like everyone said, just some hokie carnival tricks to entertain the kids."
"Are they?" A voice crept out from the darkness...
< Message edited by Sheriff Duncan -- 5/16/2010 11:23:12 >
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