I woke up in the middle of the night to see in the dark corner of my bedroom's open doorway, the Angel of Death. It is said that the Angel of Death is actually one of mercy, helping one's soul find peace. But this was decidedly not the Angel of Death man has known so well through his time of mortal existence. I knew in those few moments that this was one reserved for passage into the darkest torments and the deepest sufferings.
I turned my head, closed my eyes, looked away...the Angel remained in the corner of my doorway staring right into me. I glanced around the room, moving only my eyes, attempting to find solutions as to why I had never seen this delusion before in these few years I've lived here...no answers. Nothing was so much different that it could explain away the presence before me.
Finally, I got up, compelled myself out of bed, walked right through the doorway - where the nightlight of the hall promptly heeded the call to action - set destination to the kitchen, poured and emptied a glass of water, walked back to my chosen place of slumber, and stared into the corner of the doorway once again.
With nothing moved, nothing changed, and even the vivid mind and vision of an artist and his imagination, I was not able to recreate the form of the Angel which had only moments ago appeared before my eyes.