Early Hours of the Morning

This was *meant * to be a contest piece with a word count of under 300 words, and using the prompt of 'scary story'. So that's why it's in the form and word count it is. : )

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I've already made a few adjustments based on comments- I hope this a slightly better version. Keep the critical feedback coming- Thanks!


Early Hours of the Morning

Stevie sits in bed and fingers her remote control nonchalantly. Flick. Flick. Flick. It’s late and nothing’s on. News. Phone-in. Film. Going back through the channels she settles on the film. It blurts noise out from the small speakers; colours flash and strobe. A woman screams and the orchestra drums on the soundtrack. Stevie’s ears are deafened by the hollow dullness of the night, but then a small creak creeps into her ear-drum and reverberates. Tapping the volume down to mute, she sits in yoga, unmoving and still as a shrew in open air. Screak. Rustle. Screak. Pause. She realises it is her own bones grating against each other as her chest heaves up and down. Satisfied, her thumb turns up the sound and the woman continues to be haunted by some unknown aggressor.

The shadowed room and musky air lulls Stevie and she does not feel her head drop; it rests lightly on her chest and her internal vision creates a drama that amalgamates her own pictures with the images flashing on the screen.

Voices surround her head, floating dismembered from any source or body, and take up all consciousness and unconsciousness like chlorine gas. They groan and moan at her, until the sound is so dreadful and loud it shakes her awake. Screak . Tap. Tap. In the first moments of wakefulness the grating noise grips at her heart in an unreal terror. She forgets, and then remembers. Screak screak: Her own stiff body. Her attention turns back to the television. Tap. TAP. SLAM. Back to suspension of disbelief.

Behind the curtains, which hide the outside world, a hand whitened like that of a drowned body smudges its clammy moisture on the window. A bloodied mouth screeches senselessly, and another deadened hand hits the glass.