Ah yes, I remember this well,
The fumbling about in the darkness of  the cottage, as the narrator feels his way around the room,
The hair raising sound described,
A pronunciation of his friend's name,
By some being that seemed crystalline rather than organic
And the adrenaline that electrified his whole body upon hearing it.

The odd extra-tellurian reference frame that the creature seemed bound to so that it was not quite perpendicular to the floor...
...but that doesn't quite describe it.
It was, more accurately, that the creature was tied to some external reference frame which doesn't quite match our own.

While reading the story aloud to my children, Modulating my voice as adroitly as I am able, Pausing occasionally to define terms or explain references to the preceding book in the trilogy, I'm struck again by the author's talent; the depth and breadth of it, the power of description to elicit mood in the reader,
The completeness...and I wonder how many rewrites it took.

I notice the breathing of two of my three children has become regular.  
They've drifted to that other plane of existence.  
I pause...and Lottie's voice, a little too loud, cuts the near silence, "You aren't stopping, are you?", causing her sister to stir briefly.  "Nope!", say I, and I continue, doing my best to keep the theatrics in my voice.  
But the words are starting to dance on the page as I grow cross-eyed in my languor.

Finally I reach the chapter's end, place the bookmark and say, "And that, my dear, is where we'll pick up the story next time".  
I reach to turn off the bedside lamp, and sleep for an hour or so until Lady Di gets home from the hospital.

These beings, surrounding me now, causing me to lie on my side at the very edge of the bed, taught me what love really is.  I love them more than I can ever express.