An Angry Blade And as I turn the handle a small vibration goes through my hand and into my chest. My brain, the clever little thing it is, registers this sensation as a warning, a thought that something may just not be right, yet I continue to open the door. The light shinning through the crease without any need of a key lets me sense fully that, yes, indeed, the door was unlocked and there I stood alone in my dark house full of God knows what, open to God knows who. But I don't hesitate, I don't budge, and I don't even feel that eerie sense of fear that often accompanies such circumstances. I simply walk slowly through the house, letting my eyes adjust to the full dark as I begin to sing. Why no fear? Why am I not reliving any of the many vivid horrific murder scenes I have seen in movie after movie? I don't know. I just walk on.  ¶ 10:04 PM