Ivory Keys

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
No matter what, don't investigate unless you have to...

Submitted: August 27, 2017

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Submitted: August 27, 2017

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“Ding ding ding.” The sound that for the next seven months would drive me to insanity. The same thing every night. No matter what time I would lay my weary head down to rest, the same fate would await me each night. Just as I could feel the warm and comforting embrace of sleep wrap its arms around my every thought, the noise would start up again. “Ding ding ding.” Maddening. Deafening. Defeating the point of night altogether with its never-ending torment.

I decided one night that I had become quite tired of my suffering and I was determined to find and put a stop to whatever was causing that dreadful noise. I bided my time until the moment when I was barely unable to keep my eyelids separated from one another. Then, it finally happened. The grandfather clock in the hallway read 2:00 exactly. Not one minute before or after. It was strange that the noise would be so punctual for the past week. Always, at the same time. “Ding ding ding.” It was as if someone’s life goal was to drive me to the brink of insanity.

As quietly as I possibly could, I inched myself, one foot in front of the other. Slowly. Stealthily. As a cat would stalk a mouse down an alley, I made my descent down the stairs to the point that would convince me to never again investigate that sound.

It was huge. Hulking, mumbling to itself inconspicuous nonsense the likes that not even the world’s greatest translator could decipher. “Ding, ding, ding.” The clings of piano hammers striking strings in what once used to be the soft pleasant melodies of music, but now only reminded me of the terror that I witnessed that night. I crouched and watched in horror as the thing tapped one long, cragged claw on the white ivory keys of the grand piano that sat in the middle of the parlor. To this day, I cannot tell you why, oh why, my brain would attempt to carry out the inconceivable action of getting closer to the thing. Nothing about the situation seemed like something that screamed “safety.”

I, once again, inched myself down the stairs. Further. Further. “Just a bit closer.” I thought to myself over and over, trying to reassure myself that the plan of action that I was taking was the best one. Then it happened. The mistake that would cause every fiber of my being to crawl. The unfathomably dull mistake that I made that fateful night. *CREEEEEKK*. That simple creak of a loose floorboard’s grains sliding noisily against that rusted steel of a nail had sealed the creature’s suspicions that it was being viewed privately from the stairs.

In one swift motion, it swung its large stature around to peer at me with evil eyes. Terrible. Terrible. Terrible. Nothing could save me. “But you have to run.” I told myself. I argued with myself rather or not I could run. My body seemed frozen in place. Not a muscle in my body tightened in hopes that the thing did not see, but it was too late. It lumbered over to me. As it got closer, I began to feel my skin crawl. The feeling that one gets when they look down from a high up place and the urge to jump comes over you. Rather than jump, my urge was to run. To get as far away from the thing as I could. And that was exactly what I did. As if spring-loaded, my legs burst into action, sending my body flying up the stairs with such agility that one would believe that it had been rehearsed extensively.

I finally made it to my room, and turned to lock the door when I realized that the door had no lock. I twisted the handle and was met with the “clunk” of a locked door. It was locked from the other side. “How is that even possible?” Just as I left my room earlier, the lock was located on the handle on this side of the door. As has been my experience, brass and wood do not suddenly change positions unless someone had tampered with it. Just as this thought was beginning to unfurl with the greatest perplexity in my mind, a felt a smooth and warm draft come over my face. Everything became brighter, brighter, brighter. The brightness of a hundred candles came over my vision as I squinted to lessen the glow. Suddenly, I was thrust into consciousness.

Still squinting, I sat up in a cold sweat. Where was I? I felt the familiar silk of my bedsheets. I was still sleeping. An immense feeling of relief swept over me as wiped the terror from my eyes. It was over, and I was safe. I sighed and began to stand up as I was feeling quite hungry. My feet hit the cold wooden floor of my bedroom, and I walked over to the door. I noticed something.

Just as my hand turned the knob of my door, I was met with the same clunk that I had experienced in the dream the night before. I peered down with terror flooding my mind as colored dye does in a glass of clear water. There was no lock on this side of the door. I turned slowly, ever so slowly. Awaiting what was behind me. Staring back at me was the red outlines of those evil, evil eyes…


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