The Lost Twilight

As the pale blue sky took on the first hint of fading, Curtis picked up his rod and his small wicker basket and, rising to his feet, turned to head for home. It had been a great day, apart from the fact that the ants had found their way into the beef-paste sandwiches and that there had been no sugar in the flask of coffee that now lay forgotten beside the large oak tree, and one that he would look forward to enjoying again in the near future. He had always loved fishing and even though all he had caught had been two small brown trout, both of which he had returned to the sparkling waters, the tranquillity of the day had more than made up for the relative lack of success with the worm and the rod.

Reaching the top of the hill Curtis turned east towards the haven of his front room and the comfort of his favourite armchair. There was a sudden chill in the air but he put that down to the approach of the "end" of the day and, pulling his jacket tighter around himself, crunched off down the gravel path.

Suddenly there was a loud swishing noise and he felt a sharp prick on the side of his neck ... Some while later when he opened his eyes all was in darkness!! Reaching up to his neck he touched the area where he had felt the pain but there was nothing to be felt and when he examined his finger-tips there was no sign of blood on them. Rising groggily to his feet he glanced about him but could see very little in the surrounding blackness ... night had fallen and for him there had been no twilight.