When the clock strikes 12…

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They say witching hour is the time of night that all the worst creatures slide out of the shadows and begin their dark deeds.

The clock strikes 12 and the wise rush home, tucked away safely in bed.  “Nothing good happens after midnight”, they warn.

But that is just in fairy tales, is it not? At most, midnight beckons a visit from the Sandman, nothing more.

Or so I thought. Until I married a big… ol’… Fisch.


The night breeze blew through the cracks of our window, carrying the cool air into our room.

A faint light from the moon peaked in through the missing blind, casting shadows across the opposite wall.

I was fast asleep, most likely dreaming about becoming a Princess, when all of a sudden I awoke to a loud “AHH!”

The scream jolted me awake.

There in front of me, crouched Big Fisch on all fours, facing the doorway that opened to the living space.

He gave a low growl then shouted “IT’S A MAN!” as his right arm shot up, pointing out into the dark entryway.

Senses still waking up, I was trying to decipher between the growls I was hearing and the exclamations that were undoubtedly in English. Was this a wolf or a man Big Fisch in front of me?

“Wh-what?” I stammered. Casting an ice-cold death glare out into the hall, he locked his eyes on his prey, growling and clenching his teeth. “What is it?” I asked again.

“A man! Look…he’s standing right there.” Big Fisch began to pace back and forth on all fours, never breaking eye contact with this man he saw standing in the entryway.

I was fully awake now and could feel my heart beat pick up. I glanced through the doorway to see what, or who was there.

“What do I do now that I see you standing right there?!” Big Fisch yelled out at the man. He was half enraged, half terrified.

What the… I leaned forward once more to get another look into the hallway as I rubbed my eyes. If a weapon was needed, there was no time to lose; then again Big Fisch looked more than ready to tear his opponent to shreds with his teeth.

As my eyes began to focus, I quickly realized that while my vision confirmed there was nothing – or no one – out there, Big Fisch’s night vision was telling him the opposite. He let out another growl and continued to dodge from one corner of the bed to the next.

Knowing I was safe from intruders, I laid back down and did what any caring wife would do; I decided to have a little fun with this werewolf.

Hands propped behind my head, slight smirk on my face, I lowered my voice and whispered “well, why don’t you talk to him?”

Big Fisch shot me a quick, angry but perplexed look and asked “Huh??”

Just as fast as he looked at me, he looked back towards this figure, more enraged then I had ever seen him, and his face held an expression that read get ready to meet your maker, you SOB. He immediately lunged forward on all fours as he let out a loud BARK, gnashing his teeth as he prepared to launch himself off of the bed and out into the hall.

“NOOO!” – realizing how my attempt to play with this sleep prowling werefisch had gone terribly wrong, I grabbed his arm just in time to stop him from jumping out into the kitchen table. “You’re sleeping, you’re sleeping!”

“No I’m not!” he yelled back, trying to break free of my grasp.

“Yes you are – I promise! You’re sleeping, everything is okay.”

He looked from me to the intruder; from the intruder to me, confusion turning his growl into a whimper.

“Here”, I negotiated calmly, “you can turn the light on to prove it.” (The light has always been one of the few things that pulls him out of his night visions. Are you seeing the irony here with this werewolf…?)

Growl..whimper..whimper. He began to recoil from the edge of the bed, still angry and scared.

“Can…can you do it for me?” he asked.

Ugh. “Sure…” sigh.  I fumbled my way over to the light and flipped on the switch.

Big Fisch jumped back as the blinding glow shocked his senses. Turning back toward the doorway he looked once, then twice, and slowly paced towards the door.

First safety base.

Seeing that his rage had subsided, I let him freely proceed.

He hopped from the doorway into the bathroom, batting his arms around in the air, warding off any “thing” that might be there, before finally flicking on the fluorescent light.

Second safety base.

Oh boy. I watched bewildered and amused.

Next he karate kicked one leg out into the living room before jumping forward and swatting at the air around him. Finding nothing, he turned on the sofa lamp.

Third safety base.

The fully illuminated apartment finally convinced him that truly, nothing was out there hiding. So he looked back at me over his shoulder and in a defeated voice whimpered “You were right.”

His body seemed to transform from deadly werewolf to exhausted toddler as he stood in the light, and slowly he made his way back into bed, curled up into a ball, and immediately passed out.

Home base.

What just happened? I took a deep breath and grabbed my phone to make myself a note: Finish watching “Once Upon a Time” series to learn how to protect self from werewolves…just in case.

Witches hour? Pfft. More like Fisches hour.

When the clock strikes 12, follow Cinderella’s lead and run far, far away.

Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.

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To read more stories of Big Fisch’s sleepwalking episodes, click here.