Growing
up with cats and dogs, I got used to the sounds of scratching at my door while
I slept. Now that I live alone, it’s much more unsettling.
When I was little and had to go
anywhere in my house by myself, I would rush up the stairs, complete the task,
and race back downstairs to avoid ghosts or other things that go bump in the
night. In the momentary gap of no light when you flick the lights off, my worst
fears would be brought to the forefront of my imagination. My cat would make it
worse when he would rub my legs or attack my ankles while I was escaping the
dark.
This memory popped into my head
as I heard these sounds around 12:30. I sighed, knowing that my sleep was
ruined and that I would have to be back at work in six hours. I slowly
unwrapped myself from my comforter and turned on the light, trying to comfort
myself about the scratching noises that kept repeating over and over again. I knew
that the house was old- I had bought it for its historic charm and legends surrounding
the house. Popular stories of ghosts of animals tested by a witch swirled about
the town, and once or twice I caught some of the locals giving me a peculiar
stare and then whispering to a neighbor.
I stepped out of bed to brew
myself some coffee. I stuffed my feet into my house slippers and put on my
terry cloth bathrobe, a gift from my mother for my birthday last year. I
crossed the room and twisted the handle- but realized it was stuck. Another
oddity hit me-the scratching noises had stopped. Trying not to freak out, I
calmly thought of a reasonable explanation for the turn of events. This house is old, old things rust and get
stuck, the scratching sounds were probably the water heater (I needed to call
first thing after I got my coffee)…
I
went to my master bathroom, trying to think of what I had available to me to
unlock the door. Since the door could only be locked from the outside, I had no
key in the room. Realizing that someone (or something) had to have locked me
in, I started to panic even more. Logical solutions were thrown out of my mind
as I sank to the tiled floor, crying and all alone.
In
the midst of my meltdown, I was startled when I heard the same scratching
noises not at the door, but at the bathroom window. I looked up and saw a huge
cat with a Cheshire smile and huge, black eyes. Behind him I could tell that
there were more animals, but none that I wanted to meet. As I crawled away from
the window, I caught a glint of a knife, illuminated by the harvest moon.
I
got on my feet and ran to the door, pounding and screaming, hoping that someone
would hear me. Instead, all I got was the noise of several ghoulish animals,
results of spells gone awry.
"In the momentary gap of no light when you flick the lights off, my worst fears would be brought to the forefront of my imagination." I can definitely relate to this. Except for me, it was the basement.
ReplyDeleteWe can all relate to the "run fast to the next room in the dark so the monsters don't get you" feeling, and the prompt you chose about scratching sounds in an empty house: ugh! So eerie! I like that the character would buy a house with interesting legends around it, because I would, but at the same time I want to scold both her and myself for this notion. Buying houses with legends around it never seem to end well! Those animals, especially the Cheshire cat were quite an unsettling thing to read about. That's what you intended, so good work. I also like how the story is open-ended, and you don't know if she escapes or not.
ReplyDeleteThis made me think of a book I read this summer called The Winter People. Secrets lurk in the closet and elsewhere in a house with a difficult past and a girl your age has to use them to find her mom who disappears without a trace one morning. It's on my shelf if you're interested!
ReplyDelete