Bearded in his Den

He hadn’t been sleeping well and he knew what it was. It was the telltale sound of the cat flap that woke him every night. Clicking out and then later clicking back in, although, that wasn’t what really disturbed him. It was the thought that his beard had once again gone out for the night. Not a Hollywood ‘beard’ but the growth of erratic hair that sprouted from his chin and upper lip.

He knew what was happening, he knew more than anyone else. He had no idea what had woken him the first night as he was half dozing but it had haunted him ever since. The sight of his beard in the half-light creeping around the bedroom door. The feel of his hand upon his clean chin to prove it was not a dream. Tiptoeing down the stairs and watching his beard hitch itself up and out of the cat flap.

Then, looking through the window through his back garden and to the hill beyond and seeing other beards begin to gather. Beards from all over his neighbourhood, beards from all over the country, who knows, possibly beards from all over the world gathering.

Then they would form. Slowly at first, but then gathering pace as the shape they made began to become recognizable. A mass of hair growing to an enormous proportion. Bigger than the trees, bigger than the pylons, bigger than anything you could compare it to. Just BIG.

Then it would sway, sway until it could begin to move and then ….. off. Quickly, lightly, gathering pace, disappearing from view. For many nights he would sit staring out of the window for it to return but invariably would fall asleep before it happened. He would wake, bleary eyed and feel the hair upon his face. It was back.

But then came the thought that unnerved him. The thought that he could not rid himself of. The thought that meant his ears had become attuned to the cat flap moving.

Was it really his beard that was coming back at the end of the night or one that just looked like his?