Rodermus

Here is an experiment of sorts, call it what you will:

The darkness coiled outside, long thick ropes continually surrounding the house, and when there was almost nothing else it began to condense.  It was no longer a normal night, the evening hadn’t faded naturally, there was no starlight or moonlight to be had, and what light emanated from the house stopped dead when it touched the darkness.  And the event horizon just kept sliding closer and closer.  The blackness so thick that the windows and vinyl on the sides of the house creaked as it pressed against it, and in time it even broke though the windows and the walls, spilling into the house.  The fluorescent lights in the foyer somehow making it seem darker with their blue tinge.  Before long the singularity is complete in its collection of the house and its inhabitants:  they sleep soundly, unaware of the absence that embraces them.  It sucks away their dreams, still claiming what is its.

In the morning they will wake, unaware of the tragedy of the night.  And the fluorescent foyer bulb, again in possession of its light, will do little but elicit the deja vu of dreams that never were.