The dog ran to where the figure had been and started sniffing the ground.

He was running back and forth. I went and opened the gate. The dog stood next to me, sniffing the air, both of us looking left and right.

Nothing was there.

Whoever it was, or, I should say, whatever, was gone. What was that thing? It wasn’t a person. A person can’t disappear.

As I stood there, I slowly realized it was brighter outside. The sun had begun to rise. A car drove down the street. A bird chirped. It felt almost as if time had stopped, then started again.

I was shivering. I was cold and scared. “Let’s go, buddy. It’s gone,” I say to the dog, and we both turn and start walking to the back door.

The sun is out now, but I still flinch at every sound and jump at every movement.

Back inside, I start to warm up, but I’m still shivering. Everyone else in the house is still asleep. The noise I made didn’t wake anyone else in the house.

I need coffee and a nap, but now it is almost 7a.m., the youngest boy needs to get ready for school, and I have to work.