Home Alone IV: Lost in New York... Again

The wind outside hummed softly. The floorboard creaked. The blinds tapped gently against the glass window. Jimmy tossed and turned in his bed, sleeping, but barely resting at all. A shadow loomed over his bed. It reached out its finger and sharply tickled Jimmy's chin. He woke with a start.
Outside the wind moaned in dispair. The flooboard creaked. The blinds rapped angrily against the glass window. Jimmy's eyes were wide open. His brain, too, was wide awake, racing, full of thoughts of terror and abduction, thoughts of murder. He scrambled out from under the covers. He searched anxiously for the lightswitch. Finally his hand closed around the blessed little switch, and he pushed it upwards, waiting for light to cascade from his ceiling lamp. But it never came. Back and forth he turned the switch, but to no avail. Frantically he began to fumble around for his flashlight. His hands raced along the top of his cupboard. His fingers hit against the cold steel of the flashlight. He sighed with relief, before he heard the crash. The crash of the flashlight shattering on the floor. Jimmy was terrified. The room was black as night, dark as the devil's soul. How could it be so dark? The moon leered at him through the blinds. Its light gave him no light. It mocked him, it humiliated him, it laughed at him. Jimmy and his Krispy Kreme boxers stood alone in the dark.
Outside, the wind howled with rage. The floorboard creaked. The blinds thumped violently against the window. Jimmy now stumbled towards the door, tears of terror trailing down his face. His hand grasped the knob. He turned it. It gave a satisfying click, such a relieving sound! He gently pulled the door open, 1, 2, 6 inches open, and he began to step through the doorway. Suddenly, the door snapped violently shut. With incredible strength, the door stood still. Jimmy was trapped. he began to moan, and then to yell and scream. A voice answered him, shouting, howling. Jimmy screamed louder and louder but he could not overpower the voice. It kept howling, it challenged him, it terrified him. It defeated him. Jimmy was beyond dispair, beyond comprehension. The shadow was back, towering over him, beating and baffling his senses, pummeling his soul. Jimmy stood over the precipice of death. He looked down. It was so far away, but yet so close. He began to fall, spinning, tumbling, towards the Great End. The door was finally flung open, a terrible crash outside immidiately followed. The screams of the world lashed against his window. Jimmy stood up suddenly and...
Nothing happened. The door cordially closed shut. The lights flickered and then turned on. Outside, the wind whistled soothingly. The floorboard was silent. The blinds rattled softly and rhythmically against the window. Jimmy climbed back into bed, trembling with relief. He was 26.