Another noise. This time louder, closer, as if just outside the door. I peeled open my sleepy eyes. 3am, an unearthly hour, on a frigid and dark, dark wintry night. As if this thing, whatever it was, read my thoughts, it stopped moving, and went away. So did the noise.
Barely into my sleep, another shuffle. This time, it sounded like something was scrapping against the wall. Scrapping and scratching. I opened my eyes wide, and lay there listening. Trees danced outside the window, and through the sliver of the window blinds, I could see a shadow dart quickly to one side. Beneath its steps, leaves, rustling, crunching.
Silently I crept out of bed, my heart still, my breathing edgy. I shivered, unsure whether from the cold or from the unknown I was about to face. Carefully, I leaned close to the window and peered out into an unforgiving darkness.
A dark forbodding figure, black from top to toe, with just a wave of white on its back. Thank goodness it had not noticed me yet. I sniffed the air, and it was simply cold and dry. I watched it, its back hunched, as it sneakily tiptoed toward the outer wall of my apartment, and there it started to scratch.
I tapped the window, and leisurely it just hunched its back and walked away, without even turning its head to look at me. Perhaps it was ashamed of having been caught in the act. Bravely, knowing that the window would protect me, I tapped loudly again. But there was no reaction For who knows how long it continued to loiter around as if it were the most normal thing to be doing outisde of someone's bedroom window at 3am.
I went back to bed. The scratching and rustling sounds continued. I actually started to feel sorry for it, freezing outside with no roof over its head, and having to resort to scavenging and stealings from sleeping strangers.
But however cold it may be outside, bringing a smelly skunk home is probably not the smartest thing to do.
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