Things Go Bump In the Night 2

*Read part 1 here*


The figure silhouetted in the dark advanced slowly. My heart a drummer’s baseline rapped out a tune. Of anticipation? Fear? Expectation? Realization or dread? The cold sheets of the wind were reluctant in their approach. The room seemed to get darker and larger all at the same time. I could feel the blood curdle beneath my skin. My mind was poised on the defense. Escape routes were — wait; route as in singular for the only exit from my bedroom was its door. If I moved however, the shadow’s pent up frustration would strangle me. I had expected the sharks to come, nesting while waiting for payment, but I hadn’t been aware that they had been drawn to action already. My mind reeled. Inspiration was nowhere to be found. Metaphors lost. Similes gone. Puns, allegories, anecdotes all on vacation. I waited, knife in hand, breathing stilled, eyes piercing into a cloud of blackness. The dark figure seemed not to be moving, but I couldn’t be sure because of the room’s midnight hue.

Thud!               Thud!               Thud!

I gave up in that second. Jumping, I bee lined for the door. Another thud resounded, but I felt it more than heard it. Fetid breath fanned my neck, cold, damp appendages held me still, in place, against my own bedroom door. The thud had been my body hitting mahogany. I tried to struggle. The more I did, the more the breath on my neck increased, expanding now to crest upon my collarbone. The cold spread, threading down my arms, frost interlocking between my fingers, continuing across, upwards…downwards. I trembled. Anticipation rode me like a surfer’s wave, heavy, hard and dangerous. I trembled. My expectancy bubbling, cresting, overflow—stop!—leveling.

I trembled. Against board. Struggled against shadows. Held in place by darkness. I trembled. Expectancy rising. Cold pressing. On me, into me. I trembled. Aching violently. Shaking. Wailing. Cold greeting me, allowing me to crown. Overflow—stop! I trembled. I screamed. That squalid breath drowned me. I pushed against the darkness. The foul shadow that sought to fill me and restrict release. The motions commenced once more. Cold. Filthy. Slow. Determined. There was a whisper in the darkness. Distorted. Strained. I trembled. My weapons of defense were settled into a useless heap on the floor. Filling slowly with my wants.

Aches.

Desires.

Heat.

Needs.

Blood.

I felt it draining from me. Trickling. Puddling. My feet now clad in red pumps slipped as the darkness attacked me once more. Breathing. Freezing. Hands bound. Mouth shut. Legs apart. Neck arched. Body squashed into mahogany. I trembled. Clawed wood. Against a surface of firm hardness I vibrated. Trembled. Peaked. Trembled. Overflowed…Melting. Limbs heavy. Body aching. Heat penetrating. Cold dissipating. Fetid becoming clean. Darkness becoming me…

Payment all but complete.

Photo Credit: Gervanna Stephens
Photo Credit: Gervanna Stephens

Copyright © 2015 by Gervanna Stephens.  All rights reserved. This episode or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.


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