HeatMarie

Late at night when you are all alone there are noises that come from the floor above. At times they can be described simply like walking, and scratching, and panting, and slamming. At others the sounds are completely indscribable as though a portal has opened and the wind and water are swishing around the rooms.

I have tried to ignore the sounds but as of late, they won’t die down. I wake up to the sound of someone, perhaps something, moving about on the floor above. It is stomping and making such a racket that I can’t stand to try and sleep a moment longer. I get up out of bed, checking the alarm clock as I move, it’s only 3am. I shake my head and ask, “What will I ever do?”

I walk out of my bedroom to the bottom of the staircase. I look up the stairs and for a moment I think about calling out to the thing that is being so obnoxious. But I don’t. I stand there for another moment thinking of what I could say. But I know I will say nothing: I never do.

I walk to the kitchen and open the fridge. On the top shelf is a mold infested left over dinner from I can’t remember when. I should do something about it, just toss it away. But I don’t. I reach to the bottom of the fridge and pull out what appears to be my last can of beer. I sigh, shurg my shoulds, and sit down at the table and pop the tab.

Monstrous sounds echo down the wooden stairs. What is it this time? I ask myself sullenly. It sounds as though a desk is being moved and all four of its legs scrape against the floor; screeching, scratching.

It stops and a sudden loud clash comes from up above. The yeasty, bitter taste of the beer sits in my mouth as I wait to swallow. The scream finally comes flooding the kitchen room. I wince, close my eyes, and finally swallow the beer. This time, it goes down easy and I didn’t choke. The last time the scream came, I was in the process of taking a sip of juice and it must have went down the wrong tube from the startlement of the scream. That was last night… perhaps last week? It’s too hard to tell as now my days and nights are blurred together like a sweet and bitter wine.

I pick up my drink and walk to the other room. I sit on the couch and reach for the remote that used to sit on the table but now isn’t there. I set down my drink and reach my hand down inside of the couch were the springs bite at my hand. I dig a little deeper until I feel it’s smooth edge. I pull the remote out of the couch and turn the tv on. It’s my hope that its sounds will muffle out that which I care not to hear.

The tv came on and drowned out the darkness that surrounded it’s room. The light seemed so bright, I guess it’s something I’m just not used to. It was okay for a a minute or two, but the light seemed to burn my eyes. Perhaps, that is just lack of sleep.

I pick up my beer and walk back to my room.

The scream comes again. A shiver slivers down my spine like a snake with fangs in stance, ready to bite. I would have wished it all away if I knew what it was. But I am as lost as a vagabond in the drying desert sands, when at night it all freezes and the darkness leaves nothing but a cold bitter night and a prayer to survive.

I bite down on my lip to keep my nerves. I look up the staircase once more as I pass it. I stop and so do the sounds. I squint my eyes through the dark. And see it’s nothingness.

Shaking my head, I find my way back to my bed. I check to make sure my alarm is set. The clock ticks once more.

It’s 3am.