Laying in bed, late at night.
The wind from outside causing branches to send hair – raising knocks on the window? Lightning causing the room to light every three minutes with a flash of horror … ?
The world seemed to spin with an intensity that – as a five year old child, seemed too much of a cross to bear. A young heart racing in anticipation of something arriving from the shadows. A demon’s hand removing the safety net a warm blanket provided.
An eternity condensed into a five minute span which clouded visions of innocence into darkened lanes of shadowy depths.
Unable to fend off the tyrannical winds anymore, little feet rise and propel a diminutive body down the hall and into the waiting arms of a comforting caregiver.
In the world of hockey …
Red Fisher was those arms.