The winds shift their course causing them to whistle between the swaying trees of the night. Moonlight from the pale lunar circle in the sky crept between the blinds in the window of the hall I make my way down. Tap tapping of the skinny branches of the trees causes me to jump; frightening me. It is at this moment where I question my current destination. Am I really curious of finding out what is causing the thumping noises in my kitchen?
One hand softly caresses the banister, and the other holds a candle as I make my way down the stairs slowly. Thump thump thump. There it is again. That noise that woke me at 3am on this warm summer day. As my feet plant on the last step of the stairway, I can’t help but pause. The thumping seems to have subsided. Through trembling bones, I continue forward to the kitchen while holding my breath. Why didn’t I think to get a weapon? What if someone was breaking in?
I flip the switch to turn the light on, but soon remember there is a neighborhood black out. The candle illuminates the kitchen, casting shadows to dance about on the ceiling and walls. I finally exhale just to see the cold mist of my warm breath shoot out in front of me. It is considerably colder in here than any other room of the house. Nothing’s here, I say to myself. I move over to the counter top and sit the candle down.
After a thorough check of the kitchen, and making sure the door was still locked I made my way back towards my candle. Swoosh! I scream as the candle goes out and I become swallowed in darkness. Thump thump. It’s back again and louder than ever. It seems that my legs are not able to move as I am stricken with fear. There are no open windows or air flow for the candle to have gone out.
Suddenly all of the lights turn back on, and all I hear is the hum of my refrigerator. I look around with wide eyes searching. There is no thumping, and the air turns warm. Could this have all been a part of my imagination? Was I half asleep and hearing things? With a shake of my head, as if to clear my mind, I walk over to the candle and freeze. I must have stayed still for what seemed like forever. No words were able to escape my throat as I stared at the muddy hand prints of what looked to be of an infant.
I hurry to clean the prints and dismiss it all as my mind playing tricks on me. It has been a very strenuous week, and I haven’t been feeling well since taking these medications. With a swift flick of my wrist, I turn the kitchen light off, and make my way upstairs to bed. It is only then that I lay my head down that the alarm goes off. It’s now 6am and time to get up for work. Drowsy, drained, and troubled I get ready for work and the day ahead.
Follow to stay up to date with the short story series by Grim Angel. Look out for Part 2 of the Unborn soon.