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Mothman…

moth

Hilda was giggling in bed this morning as she drank her morning cuppa… after some interrogation she admitted that one of my comments, which she described as a short story had appeared as a memory on FaceBook… ##Ahyes… I remember it well…###

Aaah bliss… I settled down to sleep after a busy day. In the morning I had been working on my ‘Santa’ script, after which I prepared for a 200 mile round trip to Glasgow for a consultation with an employer. Prior to leaving I had to groom my beard to approximate a popular Xmas character, whom said employer was expecting… The meeting went well.
Aaah bliss… I snuggled down into the duvet, with the comforting arms of Morpheus beckoning … Hilda reading, with the gentle light of her Kindle illuminating the room.
WHAT THE!!! The bed suddenly started heaving. I was immediately alert, ready for anything, from an Insurrection to an earthquake… Whatever the emergency, I was ready, probably an instinctive reaction drilled into me from my Military School education.
The bed started to rock alarmingly, I could sense pillows and duvet up in the air, with the room in complete darkness, the comforting light from the Kindle having disappeared.
The bed heaved wildly as I struggled to see what was happening in the darkness, my responses honed to a fine edge. I was ready for any emergency, no matter how dire.
Suddenly, the main light snapped on and I turned to see Hilda energetically attacking the bedding, proclaiming loudly. “There’s a Moth… it was crawling along my arm, then it was in my hair…” She continued her enthusiastic pummelling of the bedclothes until they gave up, and relinquished the said insect. With that she jumped out of bed crying, “Got it!” Disappearing from the room to dispatch it to who knows where?
Aaah bliss… All is calm in the household again, my heart rate has returned to normal and my survival instincts have surrendered to… Zzzzz…

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