Hey, You Know That Gargoyle?

You know that corner-of-the-eye gargoyle? That hunched, scowling dude you only catch a flash of as you leave a darkened room? You were walking right past him on the way through the doorway, into the next lit room, and your heart about dropped out of your chest because there he was! You didn't see him, not clearly, not dead-on - and you didn't even react. You didn't even flinch. You just played it dead flat-affect cool, because your shocked reaction could not even kick in, before you were already out of the room. Your walking momentum had already carried you into light, and safety.

You know that guy, right? Maybe you don't conceptualize him as a gargoyle. Perhaps to you he's a troll, or a goblin. A gremlin. A monster of some kind. You only get a glimpse - maybe what strikes you most in that instant is his flat-featured face, dull teeth bared, beady eyes glaring in hatred - and what you'd swear was anticipation. Or maybe you key in on his silhouette, and the main impression you get is of his tall shock of awful, wiry, gnarly, bushy hair.

When you walk back into the room, you flip the light switch on first, and look. Curious, but nonchalant: "Hm, what might that have been?" And there's nothing there at all, nothing that could remotely answer. Or else: there is some collection or assemblage of borderline-plausible objects. You convince yourself: "Ah!" "Yes." "That...must have been it."

But anyway, you know the guy I mean! That darkened-room gargoyle. You know him, right?

Well I was just having a talk with him. He says the next time you ignore him like that, he's going to kill you.