Window
She turns her head slightly to the noise which had startled her and out of the corner of her eye, she seems to notice a figure clad in black, looking at her through the window, reading the journal in which she writes all of her fears and hopes and dreams and the like. She turns to the window, startled that someone is there, but the figure is not there and she shakes her head at herself, wondering why she is feeling this paranoid. She goes back to writing -- or, for today, trying to write because the words are stuck in her head and the hand won't translate them onto the paper. She has the feeling that someone is watching her, she turns her head again, and then, startled, she takes a full glance at nothing. It would just be the night or the mood she was in only if it happened a few times but this is the fifth time she has been startled and she begins to wonder what could be wrong. She does not understand why out of the corner of her eye she distinctly sees someone standing there only to find that no such soul exists. She has a fantastical nature and suddenly it is as if the characters that she's created have jumped out of the story and into her life as reality. She dismissed the notion that such a thing could happen, a product of her imagination coming to life, knowing full well that she's watched too much Twilight Zone, refusing to believe that is what her life is like. So she goes back to writing as if she can write and the shadowless figure continues to plague her and she'll just dismiss her paranoia as just plain fanciful.