In the still of the night, I could hear the irregular beat of the crowbar tapping on the concrete. Ever since I had moved into the now abode, there had been the distant sound of tunk, tunk, tunk.

At first I thought it was some part of the new construction next door. A cast iron door, like those you would find on a letter box, left swinging in the wind. But it had now been well over a month, the construction completed, but still this sound, tunk, tunk, tunk called out in the night. Not man nor beast could be responsible for such a noise. It was carried in the cold night air, sent to destroy any hope I had of an night of sleep. So much hurtful was the sound, that I feared ever having someone else share my room, for the very thought of the sound of the night keeping them a,way, and driving them into the depths of insanity, or at least down the road to a hotel.

Tunk, tunk, tunk, it called out. But not every night, and not for any reason. For the life of me I could not find this sound, but instead took a small comfort in its origins being that of a headless construction worker, using his crow bar in the night, to try to find under which slab of concrete his head had been buried, so that his body could unite it as one again. It may have been creepy to think of such a thing, but it gave me resolution.

But still, the noise of the night continued at will, as though sent to taunt me from my very bed, where on a nightly basis I form my intentions to enter into the land of tiredness, and drift away into a wonderment of dream and relaxation. No instead tunk, tunk tunk, would prevent me.

Now I may appear misleading in my description of this noise. It was but faint, but audible. It was but not always tunk thrice, but often tunketh but once, or tunking for a period longer than that of a Justin Bieber concert. Oh how I would have preferred the horrors of Baby, Baby over tunky, tunky a thousand times over. But alas, such a drawn out hell would not give me the benefit of it’s ways.

Tonight, as I returned from yet another night of duties in a place of employment, the noise of the night had returned. Tonight, I would end this horror of horrors for the final time, enough is enough is enough, I breach copyright if I go on, I can’t go on. With torch in hand I wandered out into the night to find the noise. It took me around fifteen minutes of searching, but there it was, in all it’s glory, right before my eyes stood a magnificent sample of a fine thoroughbred horse.  It’s mane billowing in the slight breeze, it’s chestnut coat shining in the dim light of the torch. A more fine example of an equus I had never seen. But still, this fine beast could no longer keep me from my slumber. With one swift movement of my hand, I unhooked the damn plaster cast from the nail in the brickwork, put it on the ledge and came inside.

Now, can I get some bloody sleep for once please, and don’t say neigh.