Awakening

Reads: 489  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic

A vignette- a snapshot with words...

Awakening
The discreet rustling noise from the kitchen broke my peaceful slumber, and I gradually gained consciousness from my wispy sleep. I despised being such a light sleeper. It was probably my brother, Sean, just arriving home from his late night escapades. Slowly, I lifted my eyelids to the sheer and utter darkness of my bedroom, with a tiny space of light illuminating from somewhere in the hallway, as it was visible at the bottom of my closed bedroom door. With a quick glance over my shoulder at my alarm clock, I see that the time was exactly twelve o’four, much too early for the return of my brother.
Maybe Sean came home early, I excused slightly nervously, and flopped over on my side to return to my sleep. The rustling in the kitchen, however, while still very quiet noise-wise, created a tinge of doubt in my stomach and, as it slightly began to twist into a knot, contradicted my decision to go back to sleep. Besides, there was no way that, on a Friday night, Sean was home this early, and if he was, he was undoubtedly too intoxicated to be so noiseless.
  Thinking back on it, I could’ve just passed the noise as a restless mouse or something of the sort, but at that moment I was done with the benefit of the doubt and curiosity overpowered my sleepiness and thinking and led me out of my bed.
I rolled out of the two-hundred fifty thread count sheets that covered my bed and gently paced to the front door of my bedroom. I gripped the brass door knob and creepily rotated and pulled it simultaneously, instantly stopping when the loud squeak of the rusty hinges shattered the silence and filled the air like a crack of thunder, or a piece of chalk being scratched awkwardly against the chalkboard. I stood dead still in the doorway, the knob of the now cracked door still in my hand. The rustling had ceased wholly; call it intuition, but I knew at that moment I was in the presence of a complete stranger.
The sweat in my palms shed on to the door knob and both went from dry to drenched in a matter of milliseconds. Adrenaline pumped rapidly through my veins, as I had expected the worst, and now I was prepared for it. The house had gone from a serene silence to a deafening silence, and I felt as though the pounding on my chest could be heard a mile away. My bedroom was adjacent to the corridor that led to the front door of our apartment, so at this point I’m thinking, jolt out of the door and scream like a madman, but I decided against it. Or rather, it was decided for me, because I heard the familiar sound of the kitchen chair sliding out from under the table, then the unfamiliar sound of heavy, yet calm footsteps approaching into the hallway.
I instantaneously came back to life and hastily raced for my closet on my tip-toes, as quietly as I possibly could. The hinges squeaked at a high pitch and I could feel the presence of tension growing in the room. I buried myself under a pile of unfolded, newly washed clothes at the floor of my closet. And to think Sean screamed my head off for not folding these and putting them away…
Between the lack of oxygen underneath the pile and the anxiety of the situation at hand, I began panting for breath. My heart was somewhere near my kidneys and my stomach was hiding somewhere in my intestines. I felt a flood of white light and heard the closet door fly open bringing with it a small force of wind blowing onto my exposed parts. On sheer impulse, I swiftly emerged out of the pile with every ounce of muscle I had in my body, and sprinted bee-line for the door.
“I told you somebody was in here!” I heard the unfamiliar voice yell as I jolted threw the corridor.
I was then deafened and utmost frightened to hear a loud, bursting gunshot pierce the air and I leaped with every bit of might I owned to the doorway. I had the door unlocked in a millisecond and exploded out of the door. I dashed and galloped with as great a speed as I could run out of the complex and down the cold, damp sidewalk. I hate running barefoot, though. Next time I’m taking the window…


Submitted: February 15, 2010

© Copyright 2021 DutchJr. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:


Facebook Comments

Other Content by DutchJr

Short Story / Young Adult

Essay / Young Adult

Book / Thrillers