He lived alone. He always had done. He awoke to the sound of the wind blowing and immediately felt quesy.
At first he put this down to excitement, it was Christmas morning after all;
and he had been hotly anticipating this awakening for the past week, in day dreams of wrapping paper thoughts.
He shrugged off this feeling and stood up, approaching his bedroom window.
However as he did this, a strange sensation, passed through his head,
it felt as if his head was being tempered from above by an unknown lion who had only lemons for eyes
and again he felt quesy.
In another attempt to disregard this feeling, he touched his fingers upon the velvet lace of the curtains that
covered the window and despite an overwhelming feeling of apprehension, he was able to force the curtains open.
He let out a massive yelp.
A stream of hot purple light struck his face hard,
which his mind could neither comprehend nor fully face.
This light was so bright, so strange, so full of flavour that its very force knocked him back onto his bed,
were immediately he clouded himself within his covers, pulling his pillow case off his pillow and over his face.
He began to shake.
He spent the whole of Christmas day beneath these cover, cowering, shaking under the mist of the purple light
that had flooded his room.
Beneath the covers his mind whirled in crackles of the many oddities and lights that flashed around his mind.
Sometimes he was certain he could hear the laughter of children and paper crackling.
Sometimes he thought he heard the sound of a knocking upon his door,
or the ringing of a phone; its beeps upon the carpet.
But he ignored these thoughts, in the same way as he tried to ignore the light in his room,
instead focusing upon the lights and whirling images that flittered inside his mind.
The light stayed in his room throughout the night, and was still there when he awoke the next day.
Again he stayed beneath his covers.This continued to happen for many days more, the light in the morning,
him spending his day beneath his covers until one morning, the twelth morning,
when he awoke in what was now the accustomed sweat and found the light to be gone.
The room sparkled as if it had never been touched.
His face felt fresh and clear.
He arose from his sweat stained sheets and cushion, and walked to the window.
Outside a van was driving away from a nearby house, and a family were waving at a driver he could not see.
He looked upwards at a blue sky. He smiled. It was beautiful.