One Hell Of A Night…
Written By Derrick Adams
At 3:30 a.m. when the sky is dark purple, filled with tiny dots of blinking stars, anything you hear will make your body a set of stone. I’m the only one awake, when a knock is heard on my door, loud, frightening and distinct. I walk to the door, closed. I hesitate after each small step, my toe nails scraping the hard wood. I am unsurprised to witness that nobody is there. The halls dark, my dog's snores smacking the walls of my house making its way from one end to the other, I turn my head left and right. The snoring stops, the sound of complete silence is loud. I’m un-focused; this array of nothing has me trapped, stone, feet planted, left hand hanging, right hand clenched. The floor screeches behind me, my eyes move, but nothing else. Planted, but trying to move, I am successful, running back to the four walls I call my room.
An intense cold chill enters, surrounding me. I hear heavy breathing behind me, against the back of my neck making my hair stand. Scared to look, I do anyway, only to see nothing, but the clutter in my closet. The cold fades, everything seems to be back to normal; but for how long?
The familiar sound of absolutely nothing seems to make matters worse. For a moment, it was all okay, the feeling of fear dispersing, yet still lingering. A cross, hanging over my door falls to the floor, smacking the ground in a loud manner; the remaining of the house still quiet, quickly interrupted by an eerie, dark laugh.
My black cat, who, just a second ago was sound asleep leaps off the bed making its way to my far left corner, jumping on the wall at nothing. I grab him, ignoring the feeling of my skin breaking by his sharp nails. I open my bedroom door, tossing him out safely.
The cross lies on the floor upside down. I stare blankly, speechless and scared; is this really happening? I try to ask myself this question, but my thoughts are interrupted by the fear, built up inside of me; I don’t know how much more I can take.
Should I say something? Should I tell it to stop? It gets quiet. All I hear is the ticking and the tocking of my old antique clock nailed to my kitchen wall. The clock stops, creating an utter silence so dark I feel my soul almost wasting away. I yell for it all to stop. Like any overly scared teen, I run to my bed, under the covers. I yell for my parents, but the never show up. I yell for my sister, nothing.
“Am I Alive?” I ask myself.
The voices of many are heard in the entrance echo throughout my brain. In one ear and out the other. “Yes”.
My eyes open. I was asleep the entire time. It’s still dark out. All wet, covered in sweat, I take a breather before letting myself fall back into my wet sheets, half smirk to the left of my mouth. I reach for my phone, which lies on a mantle next to my mattress. Press Power. Its LED light practically blinding me. I look at the clock. My jaw drops and my eyes widen. 3:30a.m.
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