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Gilligan tossed and turned in his sheets. He found it difficult to keep still for long. Truly, he was as comfortable as he could possibly be. But it wasn't physical discomfort that haunted Gilligan. Rather, it was that of the cerebral kind.
Something seriously bothered Gilligan, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what. The darkness in his room seemed as thick and as oppressive as the darkness down in that dungeon. The rays of moonlight that shone through the window pierced the shadows it touched, though they did not alleviate the inky darkness of the shadows nearby. Gilligan never noticed how truly dark it got at night before. It made him feel uneasy. Like something wasn't right.
Perhaps, Gilligan thought to himself, his day in the dungeon got to him. It is said that long bouts of sensory deprivation have been known to have adverse effects on the human psyche.
Gilligan realised that sleep would forever elude him if he continued to persue it so. And so he picked himself up from his bed. He wished to leave his room. The darkness made it a slightly awkward proposition. Gilligan knew his room well enough to navigate it with his eyes closed though, so the inky blackness hindered him none.
Just outside his bedroom door, he left a torch burning in a wall sconce. Just in case he couldn't sleep at night. Gilligan picked it up with his left hand, then proceeded down the wooden stairs.
He entered his living room, his favourite room in the house. Whenever he couldn't sleep, but didn't feel like sleeping outside, he slept here. The bearskin rug in front of the fireplace was his favourite place in particular.
Gilligan knelt down, pushing his torch into the kindling of the fireplace. A roaring fire came to life in a matter of moments. The blaze overpowered the darkness, illuminating the entire room. Like a knight, dispersing the demons that threatened the good folk of the world. Nothing was better than a roaring fire in ones own personal fireplace.
He then placed the torch on a nearby wall sconce.
Gilligan flopped himself down onto the rug, with the grace of a sack of potatoes. Laying spread eagled. Feeling the fur on his skin.
He let out a satisfied sigh. Gilligans anxieties that the darkness awoken in him quickly dissipated. Perhaps, Gilligan thought, everything's gonna be alright.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
There was a knocking at the front door. Who could be visiting at this time of night, Gilligan wondered. Did he dare answer the door or did he meekly wished to ignore it. The choice was his.
Something seriously bothered Gilligan, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what. The darkness in his room seemed as thick and as oppressive as the darkness down in that dungeon. The rays of moonlight that shone through the window pierced the shadows it touched, though they did not alleviate the inky darkness of the shadows nearby. Gilligan never noticed how truly dark it got at night before. It made him feel uneasy. Like something wasn't right.
Perhaps, Gilligan thought to himself, his day in the dungeon got to him. It is said that long bouts of sensory deprivation have been known to have adverse effects on the human psyche.
Gilligan realised that sleep would forever elude him if he continued to persue it so. And so he picked himself up from his bed. He wished to leave his room. The darkness made it a slightly awkward proposition. Gilligan knew his room well enough to navigate it with his eyes closed though, so the inky blackness hindered him none.
Just outside his bedroom door, he left a torch burning in a wall sconce. Just in case he couldn't sleep at night. Gilligan picked it up with his left hand, then proceeded down the wooden stairs.
He entered his living room, his favourite room in the house. Whenever he couldn't sleep, but didn't feel like sleeping outside, he slept here. The bearskin rug in front of the fireplace was his favourite place in particular.
Gilligan knelt down, pushing his torch into the kindling of the fireplace. A roaring fire came to life in a matter of moments. The blaze overpowered the darkness, illuminating the entire room. Like a knight, dispersing the demons that threatened the good folk of the world. Nothing was better than a roaring fire in ones own personal fireplace.
He then placed the torch on a nearby wall sconce.
Gilligan flopped himself down onto the rug, with the grace of a sack of potatoes. Laying spread eagled. Feeling the fur on his skin.
He let out a satisfied sigh. Gilligans anxieties that the darkness awoken in him quickly dissipated. Perhaps, Gilligan thought, everything's gonna be alright.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
There was a knocking at the front door. Who could be visiting at this time of night, Gilligan wondered. Did he dare answer the door or did he meekly wished to ignore it. The choice was his.