Case number one

I don't know whether it was case number one or if it was just one in millions, but when I turned on the light in the downstairs back hallway and went into the cloakroom, at first the moaning I dismissed as the television in a distant room but when I heard the first soggy thud on the back door, I quickly reached for the light and flicked the switch off. I fell to the floor just behind the door and pulled myself into the foetal position. I could hear the moaning, now definitely just outside the door.
All became quiet no more moaning and no more thuds on my door, I stood up and backed away looking through the darkness into even more darkness and saw nothing at all. Tentatively I reached out and flick on the light, my heart raced and I relaxed when all I could see was me in the clear glass window, my reflection staring back at me the hallway framed in the double glazed pane of glass. I stared at myself and feeling the adrenaline dissipating and my stress levels calming down. I took a deep breathe, held it to a few second and let it out, "Ah normal" I lightly said to myself, just as I resigned myself to the fact my head was playing tricks on me and everything was it's normal self, the heart wrenching thud, hit the door right in front of me and a mushy explosion of blood coated the outside of the glass, the thud after thud, and the involuntary bowel movement came on as I realised it was something outside my house continually banging it's head against my door.

Mr Hester desert island disaster

Stranded on an island walking in circles for years,
Knowing my family is probably drenched in tears,
My absence at the table is down to a treacherous hand,
An individual punishing me to live on scorched sand,
My loneliness is bearable knowing that one day,
A debt I will have and I am desperate to repay,
Hope in my heart as the anger begins to fester,
Waiting to get my hands on that ugly purple faced jester,
He flew abroad in my personal private jet,
To meet up with clients their business I will vet,
Little did I know there was an alternative plan,
The jet was to crash my trip down the pan,
For now that I know he wanted me out of the way,
Sitting in my seat and taking my all of my pay,
His bank balance swells and continues to grow,
Profits and trading with the seed that I did sow,
He took my ideas, my files and my chair,
For I will make him pay and burn off his hair,
A partner in business now a hated foe,
His life I will take from mane to his toe,
He will not be able to wriggle away,
Each and every moment is planning for the day,
He will steel and pilfer all that I own,
I will take back in small I will atone,
He was suave and deadly in his business like manner,
A picture he painted like those on a sales banner,
He could talk to everyone and make them spend big,
Ice to the Eskimos or oil to an oil rig,
But he didn't have the one thing that he did wish,
The black leather seat in my office with a tank full of fish,
My prison here on this island is a canvas for my payback,
All this time planning and scheming from my prefab beach shack,
He will feel what is meant by wrath,
When I return and he crosses my path.

One Paragraph Insomnia, uneditted, dont hate me

This was normal when my son decided he wanted his bottle at silly oclock in the morning, I got up walked like a blind man, refusing to turn the light on, simply because I dont wish to wake myself up. Step by step, down the stairs staying to the left as there is usually crap piled on the right. Open noisy door walk through close noisy door, fumble around for a light switch and feel around for any wall or chair. If only someone was watching me in the dark they would be reminded of Clarisse Starling, rookie FBI agent in Silence of the Lambs, Thomas Harris, excellent fruit cake. Clarisse is in the basement in the dark with a gun and a serial killer wearing night vision goggles. Kitchen door found, navigated, sweaty palms, what if there is a crazy mad serial killer watching me through night vision goggles. Kitchen light on, phew no mad man, just me. I unscrewed the top off his bottle rinsed it and filled it with water up to the eight fluid ounce mark and opened the microwave, a quick thirty seconds. Start button pressed, distinctive microwave hum as it clicks into motion firing off its, technical physics based things. And wait, check the clock on the cooker, piercing red 3:14am, why do I ever bother looking at a clock, it is always 3:14am. I am starting to think time only ever changes when I pay no attention to it. About three minutes ago I put thirty seconds into the microwave and it has only just blinked over to twenty seven seconds. I looked at the bottle doing what my microwave dictates its going to do when a shimmering blue thing appeared by the kitchen door but reflected in the glass door of the cooker so I flung myself around to look and in my imagination I thought about Dr Who and the Tardis. My 3:14am insomnia imagination is starting to really mess with reality, did I eat cheese before bed last night? I would have jumped back if there wasn't a cupboard stopping me from doing so, but the pleasure screams came before the crash and the pain screams, when the gargantuan figure of the intergalactic dwarf warlord, Blasfort the destroyer of worlds was deposited at my feet on my kitchen floor. "oh man, I would do that again, it is like a massive waterslide, do you know how long that took to get here, minus three minutes, that is my most favourite was to gain three minutes of my life back." I looked at the piercing red numbers on the clock, 3:11, I filled the bottle with water and put it in the microwave and watched the numbers fall.