He would find himself balled up beneath the covers with his bottle of Ulger's snuggled between his thighs. Moonbeams penetrated the curtains and dusted the room, creating distorted shadows around him. Night is the time that evil does its work. It's when mothers and their children cry themselves to sleep. It's when things around us are broken and lives are torn apart.
Night is the time the drunks come home.
He tried to take another drink from his bottle of Ulger's, but sucked only air. The hairs on the back of his neck bulged, reminding him he was alive. That was one mighty big paw wanting to be let out of the basement. About the noise. Your inner child is knocking on your door of consciousness.