It stalked across the pavement.
If it had a tail it would be swishing.
“If-it caught-you star-ing…”
Made it.
“For-your death-you would-be wish-ing…”
Face all self-satisfied smile meets six-inches of solid, hand-carved mahogany.
“Bugger.”
Arms outstretched now, palms feeling, searching.
Why was it so blasted dark?
There had been a light in the pictures, hadn’t there? A sign? A lit sign? Windows? Cracks in the door. A well-lit facade. Something.
Now there was nothing.
It took a literal step or two back.
Oh right. Yes. Well, there you have it.
The hand-carved immovable object was in fact a tree. A hop and a skip to the right - adjacent to a dark alley - was a rather charming, and very well-lit, facade; with, among other things, a door.
“Quick as a pip…”
Confidence returning, arms-a-swinging, here-we-go-a-strol-ling up-to-the-love-ly doo- ZZZzzzzzz