I need a teddy bear...

In this big old house, nights are not easy. The place swells with emptiness, and the shape and texture of the rooms amplify even the slightest noise to be heard all over. At night, when the thick darkness of this uninhabited mountain creeps in through the cracks in the windows and spaces underneath the doors, it sends a chill through your bones that leaves you unsettled for the entire evening. And when there is a storm, especially the terrific mistrals, this eeriness is only intensified.

Last night was no mistral; it didn’t even rain. But le vent – the wind – came screaming up the mountainside paths, beating against these clay walls, whistling horrific thoughts as it entered through the many open spaces into my attic. It created havoc outside; the green shutters broke loose and beat angrily against the side of the house, the leaves crackled and popped as they were torn from their branches, the sand outside swirled up into tornados and fell again like hard rain.

The windstorm escalated, knocking at my door, begging to enter.

It tried so desperately to find me last night, through the crack under my door or my shut and locked third floor window. And I lay curled up listening to its threats, hidden between my sheets, with a very large gecko scrambling hysterically all over my walls.

I thought about opening the door to let the frantic lizard out… but that meant I’d have to leave the safety of my bed – even if just for a moment – and risk letting the storm into my room.