IT WAS WHEN THE LOCAL TOWN HALL CLOCK STRUCK AT THE MIDNIGHT HOUR, THE REVERBERATIVE GONG OF THE BELL FROM THE TOP OF THE TOWN HALL, TWO STREETS TO THE SOUTH OF THE BAY OF GRENADINES, OPENED MY EYES, AT THIS ODD HOUR.

I HAPPENED TO SEE MY GLOOMY DARK ROOM, ONLY A LITTLE HIGHLIGHTED BY THE SPARKLING SPOTLIGHT OF THE LIGHTHOUSE BESIDE MY COTTAGE. ALSO, THE SOUND OF WAVES, CRASHING ON THE SHORE, WAS DRUMMING IN MY EARS PEACEFULLY. THE RAMMING SOUND OF A MOTOR CAR WOKE ME UP FROM DAZEDNESS. I SAT UP AND SCURRIED TOWARDS THE WINDOW, WHICH WAS SCENING THE MIGHT OF THE GRENADA-VALLEY LIGHTHOUSE, PROUDLY FACING THE ANGRY WAVES, OF THE DARK BLUE SEA. I NOTICED A FIGURE STANDING BELOW, WHICH SMILED AT ME. IT WAS MOSTLY GREEN AND RED. THINKING ABOUT THE NEWLY-WED LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER, HE WAS TO BE SITUATED IN THE BAHAMAS, WITH HIS WIFE.

THE STRANGER BELOW, STILL STANDING, STATIONARY, CRUMPLING THE WEEDS BELOW HIS FOOT, SMILED EERILY. I TOOK OUT MY CLUB, WHICH WAS UNDER MY WELL-POLISHED PLYWOOD BED, AND HEADED STRAIGHT OUTSIDE, TOWARDS THE LIGHTHOUSE. THROUGH THE VEGETABLE PATCH, I ANXIOUSLY WENT TOWARDS THE STRANGER; I COULD PERFECTLY DESCRIBE HIM NOW. HE HAD A PALE FACE, REDDENED AT THE DEPRESSION OF HIS WRINKLES. HE HAD TWO LONG FRESH CUTS ON HIS RIGHT CHEEK. HE HAD GREEN LONG HAIR AND WAS BRUISED ON HIS FOREHEAD. A SPECTACULAR SIGN OF ART COULD BE OBSERVED ON HIS FACE. BLUE COLORED TRIANGLES WERE PAINTED ABOVE & BELOW HIS EYES, THE EYES WHICH WERE SO RED AND WATERY, AS IF THEY WOULD JUST BURST. HIS LIPS WERE OUTLINED IN RED COLOR TOO. THE STRANGER SPORTED HIS BLUE MOUSTACHE AND HIS BLUE FRENCH BEARD. ON HIS LEFT EAR, WAS A SHAPED EARRING, AND ON HIS RIGHT EAR, WAS A GUITAR-SHAPED EARRING. ON HIS STUMPY NECK, AN ALL-BLACK CHOKER, WAS ADDED TO HIS DESCRIPTION.

BEFORE I COULD ASK HIM WHO HE WAS, THE STRANGER WEARING A RED COAT WITH A GREEN AND YELLOW COLORED BOW TIE, POINTED TOWARDS THE LIGHTHOUSE, STILL SMILING AT ME.

WITH A SURGE OF ANGER INSIDE ME, I STRAIGHT WENT TOWARDS IT, I WAS HALF INCLINED TO TURN AND GO BACK. BUT AS I CAME CLOSER, I RECKLESSLY SEARCHED FOR CASUALTIES, BUT THERE WERE NONE. I EXPECTED THIS PLACE TO BE IN RUINS. A SUDDEN DEVASTATING THOUGHT LED ME TO RUN TOWARDS MY COTTAGE. THE STRANGER WAS NOWHERE TO BE SEEN. I STARED AT THE WINDOW OF MY COTTAGE, FROM WHICH THE FIRST PLACE, I NOTICED THE STRANGER. THE WINDOW WAS LEFT HANGING, ITS HINGES WERE BROKEN, AND THE GLASS PANE WAS SMASHED. ALL THE GREENERY WAS UPROOTED OFF THE VEGETABLE PATCH. THE MAIN DOOR OF MY MALIBU COTTAGE WAS BROKEN INTO PIECES. I WENT INSIDE AND TRIED TO TURN THE LIGHTS ON, BUT TO MY HORROR, I SAW THEM DESTROYED ON THE FLOOR. MANY EXPENSIVE ARTICLES WERE MISSING. THE TELEVISION WAS LYING ON THE MATTRESS BELOW. THE DINING TABLE WAS FLIPPED; THE LEGS OF THE CHAIRS WERE BROKEN. THE FLUIDS THAT WERE KEPT INSIDE THE FRIDGE WERE NOW SPILT OUTSIDE, AND THE CURTAINS WERE SMEARED IN BLOOD. TOO TIRED TO CLEAN UP THIS MESS, TOO MUCH SLEEPY TO CRY OUT FOR HELP. I WENT TOWARDS MY BEDROOM, SLIPPED THE CLUB UNDER MY BROKEN BED, LAY DOWN, AND CLOSED MY EYES.

THIS WAS WHEN THE LOCAL TOWN HALL CLOCK STRUCK AT MIDNIGHT HOUR, AND THE REVERBERATIVE GONG OF THE BELL FROM THE TOP OF THE TOWN HALL, TWO STREETS TO THE SOUTH OF THE BAY OF GRENADINES, OPENED MY EYES, AT THIS ODD HOUR.