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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Horror/Scary · #1307831
Not like yesterday's 12:31.
         Awake. It's late. Unsure what time. Head is foggy. Coming to. Room taking focus. Brain unfogging. Yea. Here I am. Back in my tiny studio apartment. Awake. The room is nearly devoid of light. All my eye registers is the soft glow of the digital clock in the far corner. Can't make out the numbers. Still too jumbled. Try again later. World coming back. Making sense again. Midnight haze. What woke me up? Everything is silent. Just the soft patter of the fan running. Hot summer day. Hot day in the city. Strange. That's what it is. It's the sound that's putting me off. Doesn't matter what time it is. 12:31. I see it now. But it doesn't matter; the obnoxious drunks from Berklee and Northeastern should be floundering in the streets. Not out tonight though. No. The sound coming through my open windows from downtown Boston is... silence. A nice change.
         Can't sleep now. Eyes wide open. Couldn't say why. Heart is speeding up. Fast. Thump. Gotta wait it out. Maybe a glass of water. Eyes adjust and roll out of bed. That's the great thing about living in a studio apartment, isn't it? About living in a tiny box? From bed to sink to toilet is a three step journey. Don't dare flip the light on. Would burn my retinas. Liquefy in my skull. Nail in a grape. Squish.
         I go to the sink. Feel around for a glass. Probably dirty. Marked territory. Landscape of a thousand critters. Fluttering roaches in the sink...hide when I wake up. Not there now, no. Wouldn't be there now. Just my empty glass. Fill it up with the infested water. No filter. Can't afford it. Maybe it's clean. Gulp.
         But still no sound. Where are they? Wait! There it is. Outside my door. In the hall. Must be the drunkards. A night of pot and beer, and now he claws his way home. Is that it? It's footsteps I hear. Shuffling. Is it the neighbor? Stops. Silence. But didn't hear the door. Collapsed in the hallway maybe? Drowning in a pool of vomit and filth? Fucking disgusting creature. But no, no such luck. Shuffling again. Feet sliding against the hard wood -- too weak to lift his legs? Too intoxicated? A thump. Silence. What happened? My brain screams to know. Want to check the peep hole. Should be enough light outside to see. Want to check. Have to check. I'm going to check.
         Put the glass down. Back to the roaches. I creep toward the door, fumbling in the dark. Excitement mounting. Heart racing. Want to look outside. Still no sound, silence again. Just dead silence. I look through. All at once. Horror, terror, gasp for breath, heart racing, mind clutching trying to make sense. Why? I see nothing. No, not an empty hall. Blackness. Just black. As if the hole is covered up. Surely there would be enough light to see SOMETHING even if the building was drained of electricity. Why do I see nothing? Why? Is he covering the hole? Why would he do that? Trying to lure me out? Waiting for me to open the door? And what in God's name if I do? What's waiting for me? A hammer in the face? A razor across the throat? Fingers in my brain. How do I make sense of this? How can I sleep now? No, I can't! I can't! Suddenly very alone, need comfort...
         I'm tempted to run back -- run to my desk. Tempted to pull open the shades and let the city lights in. Tempted to grab my phone, to call someone. Anyone. But it's late. Yea. Too late. This is silly. But still. Hands shaking, body convulsing. I creep away from the door, towards the desk on the opposite wall. Snatch my phone, pulling the top up. It doesn't light up. Why? Why no light? Dead. Forgot to charge. It doesn't matter. No. Doesn't matter anyways. This is stupid. I'm stupid. What am I doing? Throw it down. Bounces around the wooden desk. Disturbs the silence. And there it is again! Again! The shuffling. The sliding feet! Outside the door. Still there! He's there and he heard me, my God, he heard me!
         Panic. Mind racing, heart slamming, sweat beading, hands shaking, world spinning. Can't think straight. I know. I see. Run to the kitchen. Fishing through the sink, making a racket, all the noise I want, I don't care. There. I've got it. Grab a knife. Sharp. Very sharp. Mother fucker. Hurrying back to the door. Look out the peep hole. Still. Black. Nothing. Empty. World isn't there. Waiting for me? Are you? I'm waiting for you, you son of a bitch, I'm waiting for you. I undo the bolt lock. Heart in a deadly flutter. Hand on the knob. Eye to the hole. Nothing. Still nothing. And all at once -- PULL THE DOOR OPEN AHA I'VE GOT Y---but....no... no, this isn't right. Not right at all. Panic as I've never felt before. How? I must be insane. Sane eyes cannot behold what I see. Because...I see nothing. Outside my door. Outside my tiny box. This..solitary chamber. Nothing. Black. No world. Not darkness. Just nothing. The edge of existence. No top, no bottom, no sides, no depth, no space, no dimension. Nothing. Brain is squirming. Moving. I can feel it. Comprehension twisting. Inside out. I throw the knife. What else to do? What else? Throw it hard into the big empty. And... It falls. Falls nowhere. Falls until it's beyond sight. Just. Gone. Nothing. Swallowed into nonexistence. Terror overwhelming.
         Stumble back. Run to the windows. Breath frantic. Mind racing. Pull open the shades. Eyes closed. Squeezed. Shut. Afraid to open. Don't want to know. Have to know. Squish. Open. Look. See. Grape. Vermin. Squish. FUCKING DISGUSTING CREATURE. Filth. Thump. Silence. Brain. Squish.
© Copyright 2007 M.D. Gagnon (gagnonmi at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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