The room was dark. Only a single beam of sunlight shined through the loosely shut curtains. As the old professor sat in his chair, you could see the smoke of his trusty old pipe dancing in the distance.
Nothing but sheer silence could be heard all around. Not a single trace of life was known, until the front door swung open and caught the old man off guard!
“Who’s there?!” shouted he, as he quickly grabbed hold of his sword. But no one responded.
As the professor made his way towards the hallway, the floor beneath his feet creaked with every step he took.
“I say, who’s there?” exclaimed the frightened old man, but once again…not a single sound rebounded.
As he stepped closer towards the extremity of his living-room, his old piano began to play a piece of melody he recognized.
Startled beyond his wildest dreams, the professor tried to imagine who or what could be in his home.
“Who’s there?!” he shouted once more.
A shadow was seen sweeping across the ceiling and without warning a small hand grabbed the old man’s left arm.
“Michael!” preached the old man.
“You scared me!” he exclaimed.
As if it were a sign, the grand-father’s clock pendulum came to a sudden halt.
Stepping back, taking all precaution in hand, the old man looked deep into the young child’s eyes.
“Michael?” he said with a very shaky voice. But nothing but silence was heard once more.
A sudden rush of pain was felt, before the old man fell. Nothing padded his fall, as his old body crashed to the floor.
There he lay, as the blood trickled down onto his Persian carpet. Having survived two combats, no amount of training could have prepared him for this.
As if adding insult to injury, the young boy turned on the television, sat in the old man's chair and proceeded to watch his favourite show.
Nothing but sheer silence could be heard all around. Not a single trace of life was known, until the front door swung open and caught the old man off guard!
“Who’s there?!” shouted he, as he quickly grabbed hold of his sword. But no one responded.
As the professor made his way towards the hallway, the floor beneath his feet creaked with every step he took.
“I say, who’s there?” exclaimed the frightened old man, but once again…not a single sound rebounded.
As he stepped closer towards the extremity of his living-room, his old piano began to play a piece of melody he recognized.
Startled beyond his wildest dreams, the professor tried to imagine who or what could be in his home.
“Who’s there?!” he shouted once more.
A shadow was seen sweeping across the ceiling and without warning a small hand grabbed the old man’s left arm.
“Michael!” preached the old man.
“You scared me!” he exclaimed.
As if it were a sign, the grand-father’s clock pendulum came to a sudden halt.
Stepping back, taking all precaution in hand, the old man looked deep into the young child’s eyes.
“Michael?” he said with a very shaky voice. But nothing but silence was heard once more.
A sudden rush of pain was felt, before the old man fell. Nothing padded his fall, as his old body crashed to the floor.
There he lay, as the blood trickled down onto his Persian carpet. Having survived two combats, no amount of training could have prepared him for this.
As if adding insult to injury, the young boy turned on the television, sat in the old man's chair and proceeded to watch his favourite show.
