Night-Time.

Lying in bed, I wait for the creatures of the concrete jungle outside to roam, I wait for the sound of the clockwork to start into motion. Tick, Tock, the sound of heels on the pavement as lionesses strut to the hunting ground, keen to find a mate. The baboons, howling insults at them with ape-like movements, toying with everything in sight, while the praying mantis, the complete opposite, waits in the shifting shadows for any prey that strays too close. All f them susceptible to the Mosquito above, hovering with wings like scissors, slicing through the veil of darkness and bringing it crashing down on those below. The smoky smell of the baboons below permeates my nostrils, trying to constrict my being with it's intoxicating tendrils. My bed, with it's sleepy smell protects me from the dangers outside. The large, white sheet, covering up the sounds as i hide, enveloped in it's soft, white tundra. My pillow, hiding my face from the glare of those outside, those waiting for some sign to enter.
My bed, my fortress of night-time, protecting me 'til dawn.