Below is a mostly-factual, as-accurate-as-possible recap of the bizarre happenings witnessed by your's truly tonight, during my stay in the depths of Fleming-tonian...and it is written in a Charles-Dickinsonian style. Why? Nobody knows...
(Thanks go to aladdinboy21 for this image)
"A noise rattled me from my sleep. It sounded like a hatchet or axe-saw (is there such a thing?) being pounded against a large metal object, quite possibly a pig-roaster, by a large, scary, and most-likely inbred man from across the street. I was shocked by its presence, and checked the clock on my bedside table, which read, quarter-past elevensies in the even-ing. "Who," I wondered aloud to the fat cat staring up at me with disdain, "at this hour could be making such a racket?"
The clamoring hatchet-noise soon ceased and was immediately replaced by faint scurrying sounds and far-away hyena-type cries that might be more accurately described as a ghost-child's wretched screams, and which echoed out somewhere to the right of where the murderous axe-saw wielding noise-maker man had just been. "Could they be related?" I wondered to myself. I remembered hearing these ghost-call noises cry out in the middle of the night upon previous visits to the creepy manor, and I had inquired about them to the daft elderly proprietor of the home. He had explained them away as mere foxes.
"Foxes," I scoffed.
Suddenly, other less-frightening but still stomach-churning sounds emitted from behind my bed, almost sounding as if they were coming from inside the wall or from the room directly behind. The cat pounced away in to the darkened hall.
"WTF" I thought in my be-wilderment.
More faint creaking sounds, water-in-pipes noises, and cat-paws-on-a-carpet lingered here and there from beyond the bedroom door, and I wisht for a cookie to ease my suffering."
I am going to try to go to sleep now. If something happens to me during the night, at least the world will have this blog post to refer to as evidence.
Wish me luck and peaceful slumber-times. Signing off...