The Morning Horror

A disturbance entered my consciousness. A slight tremor, a rumbling behind the veil of everything, followed by the whispering sound of scurrying movement across a cold floor. I shiver, and an unnameable fear started to run through my body and soul–what cosmic horror was approaching?

A low mumbling of unspeakable origin sneaked into my ears and snaked its way into my mind, forcing its way deeper inside, probing its way deeper and deeper into the dark recesses of my consciousness.

A moan escaped my clammy mouth, and in desperation I tried to turn around, turning my back to the dark menace.

For a few seconds–an eternity of bliss–it worked. All was silent, nothing stirred in the world.

Then the scurrying movement across the cold floor started again, this time more insistent and approaching even faster. The mumbling became a slurred, incomprehensible jumble of word-like sounds penetrating my ears’ defenseless softness. The glimpse of a bright, dress-like cloth materialized, followed by the ghost of a warped head-like shape with sharp teeth and eyes cutting through everything and a mouth shaping sounds out of the emptiness surrounding me–at first staying outside my comprehension and feeding my growing horror–then–words started to enter my consciousness, resembling something like understanding–


Hi dad! Wake up!”

My eyes looked at the little, innocent face of a girl not even two years old, standing next to the bed, a smile on her face and pointing at herself.

“Look! Cute dress!”

Yes, very cute. I couldn’t help smiling. My daughter showing me how cute her dress was, before her mother was to take her to the daycare. Very cute. My smile widened.

Seeing this she smiled even more, and we embraced.

To some people this probably would indicate a cosmic horror, but to me it turned out to be Life itself.

And when she and her mother was out the door I sighed, got off the bed, went into the kitchen to brew myself a hot steaming cup of coffee, looking outside and watching the approaching winter’s sun and the steam from the frosty ground in the garden probing the world awake one more time.

I sat down with the coffee, trails of bliss entering my nostrils, and turned on the computer.

Time to write my blog.


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