I had once read that a person does not truly rest until he laid in his own grave. I was feeling the ring of truth in those words as I flew from the porch towards the dark shadow creeping through the night. I landed noiselessly behind the man, who was still oblivious to my presence. I stood behind him, waiting.

The man paused halfway in his actions and turned around, as though he sensed my gaze. He spotted me but paid me no heed and continued picking at the lock of the door with his tools.

I transformed before I spoke, "Hey."

He turned to me, startled.

"What you got there?" I asked innocently.

He growled, bearing yellow teeth, "Go away if you don't want to end up a smattering puddle on the floor." Indeed he was bigger than me. Stocky built and most of it muscles too. He towered a head over me.

"I don't want to end up a smattering puddle," I said, my voice echoing in the silent alley. "Neither do you, I'm sure." My voice rang with a soft challenge.

"Stupid turd," he spat at me, and I shrunk from the vehemence of those words. He took it as fear and grinned wickedly, "Regretting your words so soon, boy?"

Boy? I hadn't been called one for eight years. I smiled, "No. Call me stupid I guess."

"Yes, I would have to say so," and he lunged at me.

I stepped out of his way easily and moved three paces back.

He blinked, confused. And then his face contorted into anger, and he lunged one more time. This time, I griped his arm and twisted it behind his back at an excruciating angle. He screamed as I did so. With a hold on his arm with one hand, I flicked out my cell phone with the other and began dialing.

"Hello? Is this the local police? Yes. There's someone who tried to steal into a house, just not too far from Potter Lane. Come please."

I flicked the phone close and the man was groaning quite pathetically now.

"Who are you?" he gasped.

"Just a boy." And then I heard the sirens of a police car coming down the road. It wasn't until I heard the boots of two men coming down the alley towards us that I sprouted wings and took off. I circled above in the sky and then rested back on the porch.

The thief was being handcuffed, and even as he was, he looked about him wildly shouting, "He just disappeared."

"Be quiet," one of the policemen shoved him against the wall.

"I'm telling you, he just disappeared!" the man's cries were getting more animated now.

I didn't stay to watch the rest of the show. Instead I fluttered my wings and flew off into the cool night air, shrieking a small cry of triumph as I did.

Who am I? Or would that rather be what am I?

Perhaps you could call me Night.