Today you can write about anything, in whatever genre or form, but your post must mention a dark night, your fridge, and tears (of joy or sadness; your call). Feel free to switch one ingredient if you have to (or revisit one from previous trio prompts).
It’s 3 a.m. and I’m the only one up. I’m glued to my laptop, tapping away at the keyboard as I write about the previous day when I hear a disturbance downstairs. It’s a scraping, tumbling sound, as if someone had broken in through the back door and knocked down the alphabet blocks that my niece had left in front of it. We had stacked them before retiring to bed.
I’m tense as I listen, wondering if someone is breaking in. But all is silent now. I begin to relax and then—there’s the noise again! Immediately I’m on edge. I consider waking my parents but that will take too long plus this is an old house and the floors creak. The robber will hear me. Why didn’t we activate the stupid house alarm? Did we activate the alarm? I can’t remember. My mind is racing and my adrenaline is pumping, rendering me immobile. I don’t know what to do. Now it sounds as if someone is creeping around downstairs, trying to slide their boots along the wooden floors to avoid the creaks. Maybe if I move around a bit it will scare him off or maybe he will come up here and kill me. Ah, what to do?