It’s a chilly morning, and it’s 2 a.m. as I write this.
The window in my room is wide open. I left it that way before going to bed because the heat earlier in the night was unbearable. Now, the air has shifted. It’s cold, crisp, and unmistakably harmattan. No snow here though, just that dry, eerie cold that feels ancient.
Anyway, this time, I woke up because of a dog.
There’s a stray that comes around my parents’ house every night. My mum leaves snacks out for her, and after eating, the dog usually hangs around as if repaying kindness with loyalty. I think she had a silent agreement with my mom, you feed me, I guard you. Lol. My mum loves having her around. She believes dogs see beyond the physical, beyond what human eyes can grasp.
Tonight, though, the dog isn’t calm. She’s barking relentlessly and running around the yard. I sense it enough to know it’s not the casual bark of boredom or hunger, this is sharp, urgent, almost panicked. I listen closely and realize she’s chasing something. That’s when the goosebumps appear and every hair on my body stands to attention.
I think nature likes to dare because tell me why at the same moment, a gust of cold wind blows into my room, slipping through the open window and shaking the curtains ever so slightly?
I freeze.
This isn’t the first time. I’ve experienced this exact behavior from the dog about three times this week alone. Always at night. Always intense. And every time, there’s no trail or anything visible the next morning. Just silence,as if whatever wandered into our backyard erased itself.
My mind starts racing. Is this something normal? A cat? A rat? Another dog? Or is it something else entirely, something the dog can see but I can’t?
I desperately want to sleep deeply. Deep sleep feels like the only safe escape, the only place fear can’t follow. But sleep refuses to come. Not when my thoughts keep circling the same terrifying question like what exactly is the dog fighting off?
Mid writing this, the barking stops. But the silence feels heavier than the noise ever did. So I think about going outside to check on her, to make sure she’s okay. But fear clamps down on that idea immediately. What if stepping out opens something? What if some unseen portal decides tonight is the night to pull me in? After all, it’s almost the devil’s hour.
I have opted to stay in bed and just listen till sleep cuddles me again. I will just lie here and let the harmattan air brush against my skin as if it knows my fear and enjoys it.
