Alone in the darkness
This house is haunted. I swear it is. The howling wind sounds like high pitched screams that raise goosebumps on the back of your arms and the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. The russling of the trees must have left them leaveless. They were going to be uprooted and on the road tomoorw but for now they leaned towards the house so that their branches scrape against my window like nails on a blackboard.
The windows rattled and tried to stay attached to the house. The windows in the attic were broken. I could hear the wind in their too. Rocking the creeky, old rocking chair back and forth. Back and forth. Again and again.
The floorboards creaked like footsteps. The pipes made creepy noises that I could not explain. That I did not want to explain.
I lay in my bed staring at the cracks on my ceiling. My heart hurts as it pounds against my ribcage. I flinch at every noise. Amazinly the noise is not the worst;
It is the silence.
Every creek, every bang, every squeak, every thump... it all sounds so much louder. So much more sinister. The stairs make a thumping sound every now and then. My mind jumps to the image of a man dressed in black - butcher knife in hand - creaping up the stairs to kill me. Then I sit - eyes wide with heart pounding and breath held - as I wait for the murderer to come for me. He never does.
A white dress is hung in front of my wardrobe - ready for the party at the beach tomorrow. In the darkness it is no longer pretty but it looks... scary. I can see it out of the corner of my eye as if a ghost is there ready to leap at me. It makes me flinch every time. Every single time.
The full moon glows in the darkness - refusing to be covered up by even the darkest of clouds. A wolf - or more likely a dog - howls at the moon from far off in the dark night. My poor mind jumps to images of werewolves.
A huge beast that is not quite a man but not quite a wolf. A monster the both towers and looms over any who crosses paths with it. Dark, ruff fur that stands up in spikes. Yellowing teeth that drips with saliva and blood. Big dirty claws that will rip your entire face off with one swipe. Eyes that are just black - the pupil so large that it covers the whites of the beasts eyes - yet seem to stare straight at you and freeze you in place.
Drunks leave the pub on the corner of the street below. I can hear their laughter. I cower. The group of young men are probibly on the hunt. Planing on hurting some young girl. Or killing her. Or worse...
Somehow through all of this terror I fall into a dreamless sleep.
When I awake the sun is shining bright from behind my curtains. The dress is lacy and angel-like. The news reveals no dead girls, no monster sightings. The trees are still rooted to the earth and have somehow kept most of their leaves.
This is why I hate the darkness. It brings out the worst of our imaginations. Yet the best of laughs... and stories.
