The Midnight Angel

 It was well past midnight, and I found myself tossing and turning, unable to settle into sleep. No amount of white noise or soothing music from Spotify seemed to help. Instead, an unsettling sound persisted—a slight, rhythmic tapping reminiscent of the noise made when moving a chair or piece of furniture. I got up for what felt like the millionth time to investigate the source, but my efforts proved futile. I opened the blinds, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever might be making the noise outside, yet there was nothing there. My furry companions, Glee and Leia, looked up at me with curious expressions, as if urging me to just go to sleep. Eventually, I succumbed to exhaustion and drifted off, only to awaken groggy and disoriented at the sound of my alarm the next morning.


The following night unfolded in a similar fashion. The soft noises resumed after midnight, and again, I found myself wide awake. This unnerving pattern continued night after night, each instance leaving me increasingly spooked. Having recently heard tales of haunted houses, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my home might be experiencing something similar, especially after the loss of loved ones. Concerned, I reached out to my sister, an ancestral healer. She advised me to light a camphor lamp in my room, particularly in the direction of the noise, wondering if it could be the presence of an evil spirit—or perhaps a benevolent one—that had lost its way and taken up residence in my bedroom. It brought back memories of our childhood, playing with a Ouija board and inviting any good spirits present to join us. Intrigued, I started researching supernatural phenomena and spirits. I began placing a bowl of milk beside the lamp and chanting prayers, hoping the divine might hear me and alleviate my nightly distress.


This nightly ritual continued, extending long past midnight, until one evening I inadvertently left the blinds open, allowing soft moonlight to cascade into the room. As I stepped into the darkness, the familiar rat-a-tat-tat noise resumed. This time, however, I decided to ignore it and attempted to fall asleep while Alexa played calming piano melodies. After an hour of restlessness, I rose to glance out my window, basking in the soothing moonlight. My gaze fell upon the plants on the windowsill, and to my surprise, I found a pair of gleaming eyes staring back at me, accompanied by a furry tail curled shyly around itself. There it was—the source of the noise! I found myself chuckling at my earlier fears and returned to bed, realizing that the little squirrel was the culprit, tapping on my window.


What began as a source of trepidation turned into a comforting routine. Each night before bed, I started placing peanuts in a pot for my new squirrel friend. I had read that the spirits of our departed loved ones can manifest in various forms to bring us solace, and I found comfort in that belief. As the nights passed, I began to look forward to snuggling under the covers, lulled to sleep by the familiar rat-a-tat-tat.


Then, one day, the noises abruptly ceased. I found myself waiting until midnight, yearning to hear the comforting sounds, but they never returned. Night after night, I craved the presence of that familiar rhythm, yet it vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. In time, I slowly came to terms with the absence of the noise, not even realizing that what once troubled me had transformed into a source of tranquility.


With a gentle smile, I expressed my gratitude to the universe for sending me a guardian angel in the form of a squirrel during my time of need. Now, I no longer await the stroke of midnight; instead, I drift into a peaceful sleep, completely at ease.

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