A Late Night Coffee, a Dark Window, and a Feeling I'll Never Forget.

It is said that in an urban environment most people are totally unaware that they are within several feet of a rat. But what if I suggest that most people are within mere feet of something darker - perhaps more sinister - than a rat. When darkness falls, and the deep shadows claim our gardens, something else comes exploring and investigating in the blackness?

A simple desire for a late night coffee, and an unnerving experience has left me asking that question.

LATE NIGHT COFFEE BREAK:

My first experience occurred when taking a break from the pc, the urge for coffee tugging at me. Looking to the clock it showed 2330hrs. The house was asleep, just me and the computer screen wide awake.

Heading down to the kitchen, I flip the light switch. The strip light hesitates, stammering 'bink, bink, bink', as it tries to fulfil its designated task. I move for a few seconds in a strobe-like effect as I open cupboards, grab my spoon and mug. Finally 'dink'. I have light. A glance up to my left to the wall clock above the kitchen window and sink, my eyes catch my reflection, the blackness outside mirrored back at me in the double glazing. Mug of milk in the microwave, timer set. I busy myself with washing up a few items in the sink.

As I drop my head to look at the cutlery to be washed, the hairs on my neck tingle and stand on end. I look to my left at the kitchen doorway. Nothing. The right side of my cheek tingles, and without knowing why, I look at the kitchen window in front of me. My scalp starts prickling. Badly. Although I see nothing but my reflection, the kitchen light denied progress beyond my image, I get the horrible feeling I'm being watched from outside - even now my scalp tingles just thinking about it - and I take a couple of involuntary steps back, wet hands dripping water onto the kitchen floor. 

Milk done, I hurriedly make my coffee, shut everything off and head back upstairs, thankful I didn't have to check the back door to ensure it was locked, as my wife has a habit of forgetting to lock it sometimes. Having let the dogs out earlier, I knew it was secure. The thought of 'something' having full view of me through the back door double glazing made me shudder.

I still have no clue what caused such an unsettling feeling of being watched, as I stood at the sink in front of the kitchen window that night?

GARAGE ROOF VISITOR:

My other garden-related experience occurred a couple of weeks prior to the incident described above. Only this time I was outside, heading to our garage to fetch a loaf of bread from the mini chest freezer.

Again, this took place sometime after 2300hrs. I recall the night sky was clear, devoid of cloud cover, and the air still and silent, almost as if  holding its breath in expectation. 

Dressed in a towelling gown and barefoot, I gingerly make my way to the double glazed garage door facing into the garden, desperate to avoid stepping on the night time crawlers in the form of black, glistening slugs who traverse the rough concrete path at night - having one of those squish between your toes is no joke, trust me, I've been there.

Copyright © Mark R Kelly 2025

At the garage door, I slide the key into the lock, and as I turn the handle something above my head on the edge of the garage roof is startled and takes flight up and over the roof. The noise is dense and conveys the power of the creature's movement. I jump slightly, dropping an unintentional F-Bomb. Whatever it is, it seems desperate to get away from me, even though I haven't seen the thing. I'm stood squinting into the dark, staring at the shadow of the garage roof ridge line, and I still hear the traversing of this thing as it makes its escape along the neighbour's fence behind our garage.

I know what you are thinking - cat. But I've owned cats in the past, I've seen cats walk on the very same roof, and had occasion to scare them off, and whatever this was, it was too heavy to have been a cat, and certainly not blessed with feline grace. So I'm left with no idea as to what it could have been, especially being so late at night? 

Though more disturbing for me was the fact it had been near my head, just above the garage door, and I hadn't even noticed something being there. But, in my defence, I do have a small gargoyle statue sat there that could have obscured it in shadow - see the photo on the left.

After retrieving the loaf of bread, I can honestly say I was a touch hesitant exiting the garage, my imagination working overtime, whispering, "What if it came back?"
Needless to say, I moved quickly and turned sharply, staring at the dark, moss encrusted garage roof, silently daring for anything to move.
Once I'd locked and secured the garage door I couldn't give a flying F about any slugs and my bare feet. I was back inside the house within seconds. 

Yet another garden mystery I'll likely never got to the bottom of.

To close today's post, I've chosen what I hope is a suitably evocative piece of music in tune with the mood - Helios' 'Bless This Morning Year'. Play it, let the atmosphere wash over you, and perhaps sense a fraction of the quiet unease I felt on those two nights.