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Noises in the Night

Is it real? Or is it all in your head?

By Cora MackPublished 3 years ago 11 min read
1
Noises in the Night
Photo by Bruno on Unsplash

It started while I was fast asleep. I know I probably did actually hear it right away, deep down in my subconscious, but I can't be sure. I can tell you that when my brain finally made the connection with my ears, it sounded like the noises were coming from the dark recesses of my then still sleepy mind, from somewhere so far away that it was just a faint echo, almost like a phone call with awful reception. When, among my dreams, I realized I was hearing it I woke up so quickly it was as if someone had set off a car alarm right next to my ear. Wide awake, I sat there in total darkness, my bedroom just a black hole in the depths of our fairly large, somewhat old home. I listened to every tiny little noise the house could make, every creak and every groan, trying my hardest to discern what was real and what I only thought I'd heard.

Everyone else in the house must have been asleep at that point because the silence surrounding me was so loud it was almost eerie. The house had never been so quiet before. I suddenly realized that the pitter patter noise I was hearing was the summer rainstorm brewing outside. It was that kind of brewing where you could see the dark clouds already forming and the rain was just beginning to fall lightly, but the full storm had yet to arrive. The smell of a rainstorm always calms me down and I was tremendously thankful that I'd decided to leave my window open overnight. Now I'd also have an alternate escape route if necessary.

Between the sounds of each individual drop hitting the various surfaces outside, I heard a soft clicking noise, like fingernails on a hard surface, or maybe a key turning in its lock. I figured it was just Dad coming home late once again, but his typical noisy after work routine wasn't heard this time. "Maybe he's drunk again?" I thought to myself as I hoped and prayed that that was the stupid reason behind my sudden unexplainable fear of the dark. It was feasible that he'd simply had a bad day, gotten drunk & had come home late, only to pass out on the couch upon arrival. But somehow that just didn't feel right. Whatever noises had been made, those definitely weren't Dad's noises.

Torn between curiosity and fear, I weighed my options: I can either go downstairs, find out what's making those weird noises, and possibly be killed, or I can stay here and just hope for the best... I picked the latter for what hopefully are obvious reasons.

The clicking finally stopped just as I decided to stay in my room and wait it out, but it was quickly replaced by other noises, sounds that could easily be mistaken for the house's own natural noises: The settling of the wood when the temperature changes, or the creaking of the walls as they adjust their balance on the floors and their grip on the ceiling, the quiet humming of the electronics, even the occasional running toilet downstairs… All noises I was supposed to used to hearing. Again, something just didn't feel right about the situation.

By Daniel Tseng on Unsplash

Our grandfather clock loudly chimed the arrival of two am, startling me almost out of my skin. I quickly regained my composure just in case something were to hear me nearly choke myself on a scream I had miserably tried to keep silent. The house continued to moan and groan, and those alien noises in the background wouldn't let me go back to sleep. They blended well with the real natural sounds, almost to the point where I could forget my lame fear, but not quite.

Another noise from much closer interrupted my thoughts and I was brought back to the much more real, much scarier reality of mine. This time, I was sure that someone, or something, was in the house with us. That feeling one gets when they hear a noise cut through the deafening silence of a large house whose members are all peacefully fast asleep, do you know it? I do. And it is terrifying.

I wanted to check on my parents and see if my dad could go see what the problem was, but that feeling I just described is the kind where you don't even want to breathe for fear of making even the slightest hint of a noise. It was then that I heard the soft padded footsteps of my mother walking down the hall toward the stairs. She was probably going downstairs for her late night snack again. Lately she'd taken to this new "diet" that instructs its followers to munch all day and night in small, healthy quantities. At this point though, I'm not so sure this particular diet was working in her favor.

She made her way down our steep set of stairs and I heard her opening and closing just about every door in the kitchen as she prepared her snack. With no abnormal sounds coming from below, I decided to take a peek and see if my little brother was okay, just to see if he'd snoozed his way through all the noises I'd heard. Of course, I found his room empty. It was void of all human contact for what could have been sixty seconds, or sixty hours. I couldn't remember if I'd seen him earlier that afternoon, or even that morning, and I began to panic. If my brother wasn't snoring away at two in the morning, something was definitely wrong with the world.

I ran to my parents' bedroom because I didn't know what else to do. The strange noises from downstairs hadn't made themselves known for at least five minutes, but that didn't mean that the source wasn't still down there with Mom. Joey wasn't in his room at two in the morning. My dad was the only option I had left. I found that room empty as well. Good thing I checked their bathroom though, because the light was on and my dad was inside. I hurriedly knocked on the door and started talking right away, even before I had a response.

"Dad? Are you in there? Dad! Dad, answer me. Where is Mom?"

I leaned closer to the bathroom door, straining to hear if there was anything at all inside, and got a response I wasn't expecting. The door flew open almost hitting me in the face, and there stood my father. The normality of his response actually made me jump the slightest bit.

"Mackenzie? It's two am! What are you doing up? And what does it matter where Mom is?"

"Oh, uh, I just heard some weird noises downstairs that, uh, didn't really sound like Mom or Joey, so... I was wondering if you could, uh, go down and check it out maybe?" I managed to stammer my question, which once spoken, I must say sounded a bit ridiculous. So, me being me, I went on, hopelessly trying to climb my way out of a dumb situation yet again.

"Well, they were strange noises, you know? Not like the creaks and groans the house makes... It sounded like a person, but when I came in here Mom was gone & Joey isn't in his room either so I didn't know what to do. I know I sound really lame right now, but I'm kinda scared to go down there by myself..."

"Mack, it's two am. You probably just had a nightmare or something & didn't realize that your nightmare was over when you woke up. Mom's downstairs having her snack and I don't know where Joey is. He's probably in the bathroom or downstairs with Mom. But, if you're really torn up about it, I'll go check it out."

"Thanks Dad, I really appreciate it."

I figured if Dad said it was okay, I could go down so I started making my way to the stairs. When I didn't hear my mom moving around anymore, I stopped and cautiously whispered, "Mom? You down here?"

"Mack! I thought you said you only had to go the bathroom! Why'd you go upstairs?"

Bathroom? Upstairs? I've been upstairs all night...

She must have confused me with Joey again. That happens every once in a while when she's pretty tired. Joey and I are about 5 years apart, but we do look like each other, a lot. Mom always told us that we should have been born twins.

Dad came down the stairs and I suddenly got a little worried about my safety again, so I just let him go on ahead and told him that I'd meet him down there in a minute or two. I lingered on the stairs until I heard Mom squeal. It wasn't exactly an excited squeal either. I took the rest of the stairs two at a time and came into the kitchen just in time to see a hooded figure slam a fist into my now bound father's face. Mom squealed again, quite an annoying sound actually, and I looked from her to my father, to the hooded figure and then Joey. He was eleven at the time, just the right age for boys to be a bother to girls my age.

The hooded figure grabbed a knife off the counter and began pacing back and forth in front of my kneeling family. Without any warning, the figure turned and buried the knife into my brother's stomach. Screaming, I tried to lunge at the figure. But I was completely, utterly, horrifyingly frozen in place. I heard my mom sobbing in the background, and Dad... Dad was just kneeling there; a single heartbroken shout that escaped his lips was still lingering in the air around us, silent tears falling down his cheeks as he watched his only son make his way down the path toward death.

The figure took the knife back and let out a sick girly little giggle as Joey collapsed on the kitchen floor, unconscious, never to wake again. They took Dad next, this time with three separate stabs in quick succession; one to the left leg, one to the groin, and then one to the chest. Mom screamed in agony, but sat there motionless as she awaited her own demise.

When the figure stopped in front of her she looked up and let out the tiniest gasp. She uttered a single word as she took in the figure's twisted features and she helplessly whispered my name, trailing off as she realized there really wasn't much I could do anymore. At least that's what I thought.

"Mack..." The figure had already plunged the knife straight through her heart; her last words were my name.

My whole family was gone, forever and always. I was alone, terrified. I'd heard of cases like this where some guy broke into a nice house, expecting to steal some jewelry or something. A case where the thief was expecting a simple get in and get out process, but had it foiled by the family who lived in that nice house. I never thought that I would be the one to experience something as horrifying as this. And I surely couldn't believe a murderer would ignore a single member of the family it had just killed. "Maybe they didn't hear me..." I hopelessly thought as I desperately tried to come up with my escape plan.

The figure turned around before I could do anything though, and when I saw her face I too was shocked into a gasp. I was looking at myself. The murderer, who had just slaughtered my entire family in front of me, was me. I turned to run, but paused as I saw my reflection in the hall mirror. I was wearing a black hoodie, the exact same one the hooded figure was wearing, and I had put my hood on at some point during the night, so I looked just like the person standing there with the knife in her hand.

I turned back to the figure, amazed that someone could play such an evil prank on me, but the figure was gone. I looked down at myself, hoping against all hopes that it was only a nightmare, but no... There was blood on me, all over me. My family never got up from their places on the kitchen floor, and if it was truly a nightmare… I never woke up from it.

By Elti Meshau on Unsplash

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Horror
1

About the Creator

Cora Mack

-Losing myself one day at a time, picking up the pieces as I go. Welcome to my mind-

Please consider leaving a tip if any of what you see resonated with you! Thank you so much!

Instagram: @photography_genetics -or- @klutzybutterscotch

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