The Eight O'clock Hour

Time seemed to tick faster each night.  I could see my reflection staring back at me in the wet window pane.  She looked confused, frightened.  Of course she did.  It had been happening for a whole week now and last night’s episode was just as terrifying as the first.  Glancing at the clock, I knew someone else would soon be haunting me.

When the first one came, a week ago, I blacked out.  I found myself wandering in the street, but have no idea how I got there.  Instead of fear, I felt curiosity surge through my veins, pulsating at every turn.  It didn’t make sense to me to be curious about the ground beneath me, the air flowing around me, or even more strange, my skin and teeth and toes.

For four hours, seven strange nights in a row, I became someone, something else.  Each night left me understanding only slightly more.

As darkness descends, the eight o’clock hour will soon arrive.  I’ll be locked inside, allowed to see, hear, smell, touch, but never speak as someone or something takes me.

It's all about 8:00, am or pm, at Write on Edge this week; 200 words or less.  And I'm bringing the hour to you with a new fictional character.  While I love watching scifi, I've never written any...until now.