Waking Up At Midnight, Alone in the Dark

I’m lying in a ditch. The night pools around me quietly. My world shudders as a thousand bombs make landfall amid the scream of jets overhead. And then—silence.

Somewhere in my mind, I hear a familiar voice: _What've you got yourself into this time, kid?_

I open my eyes and see the small, night-shrouded shape of a fox. A rueful smile. All these years and deep down, I'm still just a kid. Always making up friends to play with.

"Just a nightmare," I whisper. Just another midnight terror, and me waking up, in cold sweat, to feel a familiar presence near me in the dark.

In the sky, far away, silver jets hum.

The fox stands over me, as if to shield my broken body with her small, imaginary form. For a second I catch her gaze, and it is calm. Reassuring.

"Don't leave me," I hear myself say.

_I won't._

It doesn't matter. That she's not real. Because she's _here_.

The jets doppler up to a howl.

A gentle murmur. _Go back to sleep. When you wake up, it’ll be morning._

"Good night," I whisper.

I close my eyes.