For some reason the telescreen in the living-room was in an unusual position. As it is right across from the doorway that is the first thing you notice before observing that the whole room is in disarray. The carpet is pushed to the side, some of the books have fallen off the shelf and the likely perpetrator, your skittish black cat, is sitting in her place, crouched into a ball, ears flattened against her head, yellow eyes almost filled by black pupils, a fearful expression on her face. The wind is whooshing through the trees outside and around the house walls. “She was probably scared by the sound,” you think fondly and go about tidying the room.

A few moments later there are four soft raps on the door. Your house is deeper in the woods than most so you rarely have visitors. “It must be one of the neighbours… but why so late at night?” You open the door. There is no one. “I, too, am probably scared by the wind.”

Then you see it. In the distance, amidst the black silhouettes of the trees, there is the black silhouette of a person.

“Hello?” You call warily. No answer. Instead the colourless figure starts moving unhurriedly out of the forest and towards you. And so do two of the tree silhouettes. There are no trees but antlers. You watch mesmerized and as it gets closer, you can discern its unnatural gait and its too tall stature.

At some point you come back to your senses. You instantly bolt the door shut and scramble to the other end of the room. Your cat is hissing at the direction of the door, her back arches and fur stands on end. “The window!” You promptly remember. You turn to see if it is closed.

And then you find the thing that is staring at you. It doesn’t seem to be a human creature. You haven’t been able to see its eyes outside. But now you can – they are glowing red and look as if they are bleeding.

“…you are the guest here…why are you barring me out…”, whispers a soundless voice, as if carried to your mind by the wind outside. You can’t help but agree with it.

And so your mind goes blank. You don’t remember the place you are in. You don’t remember coming here. You don’t remember your fear. You are only aware of your visitor’s tranquil countenance and calm demeanour. You don’t actually see him anymore. He is now behind you, gentle clawed hand on your shoulder, shape reflected hazily on the window glass.

You suddenly recoil. You are disorientated but the shape of your home slowly comes back to you. You move away from the window.

“What have you even been there for?” you sit on the small couch, where your two black cats watch you curiously, one amber-eyed, crimson-eyed the other.