The Sound of Darkness

(Scratching and thumping, scratching and thumping)

As scared as I was the sound was almost rhythmic, wanting to lull you to sleep. But if you slept your guard would be down. If they got in they would be on top of you in no time. Devouring your flesh. Killing you, slowly and painfully or turning you into one of them. Maybe even worse...doing both.

(Scratching and thumping, scratching and thumping)

I didn't know how many were out there now. Four, five or even ten? For all I know it could be hundreds by now. What I did know was that they only wanted one thing between them all. That was to get to me and eat y flesh.

(Scratching and thumping)

I sat in the corner furthest from the only door into the room. The room was pitch black. There were no windows, they could get through windows. The room was locked at the knob and had a deadbolt secured as well. A six drawer file cabinet pushed up against the door provided extra reinforcement. Total darkness. I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face. I could however hear them.

(Scratching and thumping, scratching and thumping, scratching and thumping)

I sat with my back jammed into the corner. My knees pressed to my chest, heels touching my buttocks. My chin rested on my knees as I hugged my legs with my arms. Clutching a .9mm Beretta pistol in my hands. The magazine fully loaded, one round in the chamber. These bullets were my last.

Total darkness.

(Scratching and thumping, scratching and thumping)

I don't know how long I'd been in the room, cowering in the corner. Only God knows how long I would remain. Would I die in this room? How would it end? Would I starve to death or would they get to me? Would I get rescued miraculously?

I had a full magazine but I would only need one bullet to take my own life. It would be a quicker, painless. Wouldn't that be better, not having to feel them as they tear into my body, their mouths taking chunks out of my flesh? It seemed inevitable. No matter what the method or length of time it took, the outcome was the same. I WILL DIE.

(Scratching and thumping, thumping, and thumping)

The thumping grew louder and louder. My eyes darted around the room from left to right trying to pierce the darkness, looking for the thumping, looking for hope. To say I was scared would be a significant understatement. I was petrified.

(Thumping and scratching, thumping, thumping, thumping)

Was there more of them out there? They're in. I think they made it in. The thumping was getting louder. I couldn't hear the scratching anymore. They had to be in the room.

The darkness. I can't see them. Where are they?

(Thump, thump, thump)

They're going to kill me. I can hear them getting closer. Oh God, please help me!

I can't see them. They are all around me, I can hear them. I scream a scream of dread. Blood curdling. A scream for help. A cry for salvation.
I squeeze the trigger of the pistol as I grip it, white knuckled, aiming left, right, left, and centered.
(Thump, thump, thump, thump)
I hear them but it's not them hitting the floor from one of my shots fired in blindness and fear. I missed them and it's getting louder. They must be closer. I don't want to suffer. I don't want to be ripped apart. They won't stop. The noise won't stop. Pitch black. I can't see them.
I stick the muzzle of the gun under my chin. Tears flow down my cheeks. The sound is torture. I can't handle it. I pull the trigger.
(Thump, thump, BANG)
(Silence)
The thumping stopped. My body jerked back slamming against the wall, then slowly toppled forward. The room remained shrouded in darkness. The scratching had ended. The thumping was gone.
The thumping. They had left. Not being able to break in they moved on to their next potential victim. I was alone. I could have escaped. But the thumping. I thought they were in the room. I was scared.
The thumping.
It was my heart.
I could have survived.
Total darkness.