As I sit in this dark room in this old house that we have rented, I realize that this would be an ideal place for the scene of a horror movie to happen. I am alone and vulnerable, outside I hear the sound of crickets chirping but I can see nothing but black out of the window. Surely this would be the one place that the man with the chainsaw, thirsty for blood and death, would attack me. Every so often my door creaks open by itself, to someone less skeptical this might be seen as proof of a supernatural visitor, but there is a simple explanation, the rest of the house is warm and my room is cool so the pressure differences caused by the inconsistent temperatures make move my door, making the creaking. It is like this that I begin to rule out the danger of anything in this room threatening me or my safety. Ghosts do not exist because science says they do not, nor do demons, trolls, goblins and the more esoteric of mythical creatures humans have created. I am more likely to die of a heart attack tonight than to be crushed by a giant, since one has the slightest possibility of happening. Statistics say that potentially this house could be robbed tonight, and maybe as a result of a encounter gone awry I would be in head but this to is such a small concern that it is not even worth trying to prevent beyond the usual precautions of locking to doors and turning on an alarm.
This room seems kind of dull now, the child in my has been effectively killed by some statistics and science. I am in this room, perfectly out of harms way, their is nothing remarkable about this situation, tomorrow I will wake up and nothing will have harmed me. The bed will not have collapsed and a bat will not have flown into my room. No beautiful maiden will knock at my window, seeking recluse from an overbearing father. Nothing will happen and what is more dull than inaction? But think of this, perhaps this experience which I am living through right now is more absurd than the idea of a fairy. Had things gone another way, perhaps our cars could fly or the world would have disappeared in a nuclear war. Maybe this experience and all the events that led up to it were so extraordinarily small that I should consider it more of a surprise this night turned the way it did, than if the existence of bigfoot were confirmed tomorrow. What most people describe as inane is really no different from what they think of as extraordinary. Maybe (and I do hope) that there is a god somewhere, documenting each things that ever happens. Maybe this god wants to communicate with me, and a very human part of me wishes that I am listening to a greater power speak through the creaking of a door.