sts or spells that bound her to
a second home.

THE NIGHTLAMP

Like a wail in the back of an inflammed throat came that protracted
noise once again. Interminably, the rhythmic pitch of pounding grew
louder as if several loose stones had swished themselves against the
larger cylinder of his room. Already, the steady rap of a hammer's edge
oozed from night's blackness disparate as a voice muffled in protest
against an exhausting load.

Again, the unyielding barricade of sound renewed itself much as a
headlight might fall against the path of a dazed woodland animal. The
same enervating crust of unreality accompanied this sound as must, he
imagined, light that focused itself upon a stunned rabbit at a roadside
clearing.

Steady now, it peaked again after a small hiatus interrupted only by
the staccato bumping of his own heart within thin visceral walls.
Catching the bed-sheets in his hand and moving to switch the nightlamp
on as his feet touched floor, Durfield let his eyes grow accustomed to
the bright light now filtering across the room. Same turmoil as with
the ruddy animal immobilized in its tracks, he thought, excepting now
the darkness coiled in wait instead of that speeding car. Same fate, he
pondered, nearly aloud. No, not really, because I have a vestige of
control here, he reassured himself. The lamp-switch allows me, of
course, to commandeer the ignition keys to this vehicular room. I have
mastery of my environment, however limited. The fawn or hare has no
more free will in that regard than a stone spinning upon itself through
orbital space. The animal freezing in its tracks is but a by-product of
its own misshapen destiny--a projection of inward fear itself. Instinct
knows only one route when threatened, he theorized. I, at least, have
that avenue of self-preservation plus the dimension of reason. That and
that alone separates me from the splattered remnants of a deer against
the highway. Its over-specialization dooms or pre-dates its response.
So very predictable, he mused fingering the face of his big, green
lettered clock. I'm different, he began reassuring himself adjusting
his eyes to the flooding light a little less nervously. I have the
calling card of reason plus an instinctual nature. The two should
compliment one another. Why, take that accursed noise. I can attempt
its categorization in hope of dispelling the fear of the unknown.
What's more, I can move to lessen its impact or remove it altog