The Nightwatchman

Every night, as the clock strikes twelve, the nightwatchman’s shrill whistle resounds through the empty lane.

It takes him exactly twenty minutes to complete his round, before settling down in the guard hut next to No.10.

He knows he shouldn’t doze off, but he can’t help it. It’s cold and the hut is comfortingly warm.

As sleep starts to take over, he drifts into dreamland.

The lights in No.10 come on when the clock strikes half-past twelve. 

The windows open and a soft melody starts to play. There is a flurry of activity. Laughter echoes through the house and then a shrill scream.

A lone figure walks out the door. It stops at the hut and looks at the sleeping guard, before merging into him.

The guard’s eyes jerk open. He comes out of the hut and walks towards No.11.

There is a shovel in the garden.

The guard picks it up and walks towards the main door.

He smashes the door open and walks in.