She didn't have a care in the world. She should have done with what she was experiencing, but for now, for some reason, she felt more interested than frightened. The fear factor had passed away leaving her with only wonderment and anticipation. She turned to look at the clock face, which was illuminated by the soft September moonlight that filtered through the slight gap in the curtains and into her bedroom. Eleven thirty. Another fifteen minutes and he would arrive. He...whoever he was. Instinct forced her to jump out of bed. She checked the catch on her bedroom door was locked, likewise her window. Now, feeling a little easier, she jumped back under the sheets. This had become the same routine over the past couple of months. A series of checking doors, windows, then waiting, then checking again and waiting and yet more waiting. Then at eleven forty-five like clockwork, he would arrive. About three weeks previously she had sneaked her boyfriend into her bedroom, not an unusual thing for a teenager to do, but this wasn't for entertainment purposes. Her boyfriend had a vested interest in these types of things. He...it, hadn't turned up that night though. It was as if it knew. In the early stages she'd had numerous girlfriends stay over, but each time that course of action had caused a halt to events. It was no wonder she wasn't believed. But she believed. She'd seen all the proof she needed and a whole lot more. Eleven thirty-five. She was ready and settled, awaiting the night's outcome. The room and the house were at one and silent; there was not even a murmur from either her parent's or little brother's rooms. They were all heavy sleepers and were not interested in the slightest in what they saw as sixteen-year-old girl's flights of fantasy. Eleven forty. Now she could hear a sound. It was an old cliche, but the noise of her heartbeat swam up from her body and swelled into her ears. Eleven forty-three. The time was almost upon her. The temperature dropped. Now there would be no escape, even if she was afraid. Eleven forty-five. The curtain billowed although the window was tightly shut. She pulled the blankets up, close to her chin and watched intently. The white light appeared first as it had on all the other nights. Within seconds the outline of a small boy appeared within it. A few seconds more and the outline was filled in. The boy in the light was dressed in a fashion straight from the Second World War era, complete with gas mask at his side. "Hello." She smiled softly. There was no answer from him. "It's nice to see you again." She greeted him like an old friend. His mouth opened conversing, but no sound emitted from it, like watching television with the mute button on. He looked afraid; perhaps that was why she felt calm in his unusual presence. Then he was gone. Twelve o'clock and he vanished as always, leaving her lying in her bed, pondering her next move for the following night. Little did she realise that she would soon be dead.