A/N: This is sort of like a valium induced practice piece. It's pretty terrible, I'm not sure what to think of it. Although my friend Heather seemed to like it very much and wants to use it in a manga she's working on.

The last line came to me after I'd been having a strange dream in the morning and was just waking up; you know, that zone inbetween sleep and waking. It's been hanging around for a while and I decied to use it for this.

I'll stop now before the author's note ends up being longer than the actual story.

There were 2 in the house.
Not including the mouse.

The wind howled in a most cataclysm-cliché way, as if to tear the ligaments of the tiny world apart, rip it limb from limb, and torture all the lost souls that were carried on it. It was a ferocious, violent wind. It was angry.

Inside, streamers of moonlight dangled in through a curtain-less window, weightlessly in thin air, in a forgotten segment of the world. Inside it was not cold. Nor was it warm, nor damp nor dry. And the makings of the building structure rattled and shook, almost (but emptily) threatening to break and let the wild night cascade inwards.

An unseen grey bundle of fur known as rodent, pest, mouse, tiptoed along the floorboards that would not give into the spook setting of the night under such a small weight.

And one small boy-figure in the blinding dark tried its best to meld itself into bits of ancient antique furniture, squeezing it’s lithe frame into crevices and crack, hiding away, hoping never to be found by that thing, become one with the rotting wood, grow mould, and become the putridly thick dust that filled up its lungs. But the poor thing couldn’t escape, it realised, as the other known as stalker, predator, evil entity, brushed over the cowering trembling dust, rotting wood, poor soul; but perhaps no soul.

The androgynous evil whispered, ever so eerily, “The moon is blue-grey, tonight, I think. With a hint of red. Jut like you, my love.” Then it smiled, with fang, and nearly consumed what was left of the shaky little being cowering in the corner of the room, with the mouse as their only witness.

The tiny body whimpered and gasped and couldn’t hold back the tears as it was held down by the forceful thing on top that would always have its way. And the howling wind died down outside, and the moon turned to a white crescent sliver hanging in the sky.

Then the mouse scampered away, just another shade of dark in the night.