He put the pen down, tired of writing til late night, turned the lights off and lied down on the bed, tucked himself in his blanket, trying to sleep.
He always had a hard time trying to sleep because of his passion for writing as if he poured himself along with his heart in all his writings.
The pages of his workbook that he left open by his legs started flipping, slowly, one by one because of the cold wind.
Instantly regretted leaving the window open but the voice wasn't that disturbing so he kept trying to fall asleep.
The pages kept flipping, too much, slowly but constantly, it didn't stop despite it being such a thin book.
Pages kept flipping like there's no end to it.
Fed up of it, he sits up to take the book and close it
Sitting right there on the bed,
He yelled and turned the lights on immediately
And she's gone with the darkness.
Scared and shocked he sits there looking around breathing heavily, til he could gather the strength to drink some water and stand up to close the window. His legs were still shaking but he managed to walk to the window.
As he looks out of the window through the dark, there she is,
Standing next to the well she fell in and drowned a few weeks ago