***

Greg wakes, turns his head slightly to the left to check in on a crimson red blur that is the display of his clock radio resting on his bedside locker and that blur, once his eyes settle, tells him it is 2.18 am. For a split second, he was sure that something woke him and now, he is not so sure. He'd rather not move if he doesn't have to.

He is locked into one of those moments where he would be happy never to move again if he didn't have to. Just to lay still, groggy, unwilling to even stretch a morsel or point a toe. Of course, these moments don't last forever. If this one could only make it through the next four or five hours, that would be something. As it is ... well.

Gazing at the ceiling in that darkened bedroom of his, his mind wanders ... is his brother managing to sleep in that hospital? Is his pain too great to cope with? What was it he was doing that caused the explosion which has sent him to his current residence? Something stupid, no less. Still, he is alive and that is what matters.

Why hasn't Kathleen called him yet? Yeah, she may have broken up with his brother a week ago but surely, she must have heard about the accident. Wouldn't she have checked in with Greg by now, a simple phone call, for nothing more if not to see if all is well? Has she no heart at all? The years of inseparability, wouldn't that count for something?

There was always something odd about that relationship, exactly what is something Greg could never quite grasp.

He doesn't wanna give in to the thoughts that things are really over between the two, and not that he'd ever use his brother in this way, though wouldn't now be the perfect opportunity to call and say she really doesn't mean for it to be over at all, with potential for consolation of sorts. Well, not call now exactly, with it being a time and hour to wee to be making any kind of relationship query. Hopeful wishing ... a master dreamer he is ... a conflict of interest surely can't be good though all is fair in love and war ... only so many levels of zen can be achieved.

Blood should be thicker than ... whatever else presents itself. Such isn't always the case, though how and ever, life is life, and it moves forwards no matter what is presented through chance or other means. Something indeed had always seemed a miss between the two, how and ever.

There ... that was another sound right now ... it confirms what he thought he heard earlier, and it is coming from somewhere else in the house. Nah, his mind is playing tricks. Another sound now again, much louder than any which came before. This one is more of a crashing sound than anything else. There is an intruder in his home. In most incidents like this, we react, or we assume we would react, no matter what feeling might want to hold us captive.

What if such a thing has you fear for your life? Would you freeze, remain where you are and hope such an intruder, or intruders, do not come looking? One captive moment caught within another. They'll leave once they find that the place is not worth robbing. What if they decide to search upstairs first?

As it is, Greg reacts. This is his home, no one is gonna mess with it other than him, if he can so help it. He creeps slowly down the stairs, turning his head towards the kitchen as soon as he is capable. Whomever is here, is still here and in the kitchen. There is nothing between the stairs and the kitchen that could be considered weapon worthy except for a small flower vase, so small it can hold not much more than three or four individual flowers at a time. Not much of a weapon at all, though smashing it over an intruder's head may just give him enough of an advantage to go on and subdue such a person.

Wearily, he moves into the kitchen just as someone, or something, was leaving through the back patio doors. He briefly thinks of it as a something due to the fact that darkness prevented him from seeing exactly what vacated his premises. It was too small to be a man but too large to hazard a guess at what else it might be. It might have been a dwarf, nah, dwarfs are something of fantasy or legend. Yeah, small people exist in the world, but this was something different and he is sure this thing moved with great speed, more like an animal would.

He turns on a light and quickly makes his way out through that patio door, sees nothing noteworthy, turns on an outside light and still cannot see anything out of place. So, back inside he heads, locking that patio door. Had he left it unlocked before retiring to bed? Of this, he is unsure. The kitchen is a mess, his fridge has been raided. Bits of various foods are scattered all around, mostly by his still opened fridge. A carton of milk is still leaking. Nothing of note seems to be missing from the home itself.

He checks his living room. Television, laptop, furniture, all undisturbed. Back in the kitchen, he gives the fridge the once over. The bugger, whatever it was, had made off with his beer, all eight cans. Some foods are still intact but the beer ... really? ... Bugger, indeed.

Whatever entered his home, human or something other, it was hungry, and apparently quite thirsty too.

Greg is up now and awake to the point he is sure that it would be a while before he'd be able to return to slumber should he head right back to bed. So, it's to the couch and the television for the time being. The mess in the kitchen can wait, the hell he'll deal with it now. He switches between a channel or two or three when programming is interrupted by a local news report ... at this time of the morning? ... really?

It is reported that a new breed of animal has escaped the transport vehicle escorting the creature to the local zoo, a kind of lie to a point, not that Greg knows any better. Citizens are advised to keep clear of the animal should they come into proximity with it. Numbers are given to report any potential sightings ...

New breed of animal? Creature? Such a thing could not be what had entered his home in the moments prior to this one, could it? He hadn't actually seen anything to either confirm or deny this thought, though considering what he does know. ... What he did see, or thought he saw, was something he no more than got a glimpse of. So, should he report it? Or leave it be? Surely, he'd look quite silly reporting this incident if there had been nothing to it at all.

But then there is the flip side, what if this creature had invaded his home and had stolen his beer? It may still be making its way through the housing estate, not so far away from stealing someone else beer. Most people would be sleeping at this hour, what if someone were to get hurt and his report could have prevented such an incident? The struggle is real, Greg can't make up his mind one way or the other.

With all this weighing heavy upon him, there is only one thing to do ... go search the estate and see what he may find. Greg lives in a house on a kind of central island much closer to the top end of the estate than to the bottom. His home is the first of three on this island, of which you'd see if you entered through the estate's security gates. There is plenty of housing along the other side of the roadway which splits into two once it comes to the island going on downhill a few hundred meters or so. There is also a side pathway which provides unhindered access in and out of the estate close to the top end and a slightly charged electrical gate is locked and activated just after dark each and every day.

The kitchen patio doors face towards the back end of the estate so it may make sense to head centrally in that direct before retuning back up along either of the two side roads. The night is a dry one with hardly a breeze flowing strong enough for anyone to consider that there is one there at all. It is also towards the end of summer so the chilled sea air which often invades the whole coastal area is still more than a month away from making a return.

His clothing is light, slippers are swapped for sandals and a small torch will accompany the search to illuminate areas where the street lighting does not reach. He hardly had made his way outside when he hears something, a singular sound that he reckons might be made by something like a hyena or the sorts. It lasted no more than a second or two, loud enough for him to hear and quiet enough to the point it may not wake many of the sleeping townsfolk.

Despite the slight echo of the sound, possibly distorting its location, Greg is sure he knows where it is he needs to be and if he hurries, he'll be there in less than a minute, and he was there in less than a minute ... this is when he sees an amazing thing.

Something is laying on its back on the road, well, more to one side of a road. What this thing is, huh ... it's not human. For one thing it is too small even to be a dwarf. On its back, as if a car had hit it or more like backed into it. The mistake in momentarily thinking it was human partly comes from the fact that it is wearing a shirt, and not just any shirt at that, it is a Hawaiian style shirt with which Greg is positive belongs to him. Is this the animal from the news report?

The creature is somewhat of a groundhog or woodchuck by another name only oddly three or four times the size of what they would regularly be. Crazy how size is sometimes about perception. This this is huge, yet it isn't ... really, and at that, it looks fairly ... harmless. A chimpanzee, but not quite. Its face or head is that more of a sloth than that of a groundhog or some kind of ape. Its upper limbs more like short arms with hands and fingers a little less claw like than what one might expect them to be. The hind limbs are short and stout to where it probably is most likely that the creature needs all four limbs to get around.

But less of that for now, and less of Greg standing in awe and confusion. The creature is clearly injured, or at the very least ... passed out. The vehicle driver has got out of his car to check on what had happened.

'I didn't see it; had no idea it was there ... honest ...' he says to Greg while looking just as lost and confused as Greg is, possibly fearing he has got himself into trouble and Greg may be someone in authority.

Whether this person is a resident or a visitor to the estate, Greg has no idea, he would be sure he has never seen this man before, as this fellow would also be sure that he has never seen Greg before either. If he is a visitor then it is a bit of an odd time to be looking to go anywhere in his vehicle, but who knows of motives and needs?

'Y-y-y ... you. Help me get it into my house ... I live just up the hill here a bit ...'

'I will do no such thing ... you can see this thing as clearly as I can. There is no way I am gonna touch it ...'

With that, this man gets into his vehicle and drives away. If Greg had been more present in this moment, he might have taken the man's registration details, though who would he give these details to? Will this man tell anyone of his encounter? Not likely, for who would believe him? All things Greg is yet to consider. Right now, the creature needs help, and in a moment of time Greg will lose all memory of, he gets the creature to his home.