The Silence Behind Doors

I saw it. I don’t know what ‘it’ was, but I saw it. In fact, I didn’t just see it; I stared at it for a good five seconds. Of course, five seconds isn’t a very long period of time, but when some otherworldly creature is lumbering towards you it sure feels like it.

It was eleven o’clock and I was ready for bed, so I left my room to go and brush my teeth in the bathroom. As I did, I passed the stairs and looked down.

I froze up.

White, skeletal, long dangling arms and no facial features, other than two dark black holes where eyes should be. That’s all I can remember; it may have had horns, its fingers may have been clawed, I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it for hours, and I feel like the more I do, the more my definition of what I saw is changing.

It was at the bottom of the stairs, staring straight into my eyes, slowly walking up to meet me. Extremely slowly. Extremely silently. I have no idea what it would have done if it’d reached me, and I’m glad I didn’t wait long enough to find out. I froze up for a few seconds, unable to process what I was seeing, until, I guess, five or so seconds had passed. It was half way up the stairs by the time I moved. I snapped out of my petrified state, ran to the bathroom, and locked the door behind me. Then I just stood there, waiting to see what would happen.

I’ve been in here for four hours now. I was probably stood up for ten minutes; just standing there, waiting. Then everything kicked in and I started shaking, then started crying. I sat beneath the sink and curled up with one of my dad’s disposable razors in my hand as a weapon- not that it would do me any good, but compared to toothbrushes or bottles of shower gel it was by far the best weapon I had.

Eventually I calmed down and stopped crying. It was all silent outside, but I was still terrified. My parents had gone away to visit relatives, and wouldn’t be back until the morning. Of course, a seventeen year old left home alone was no issue; I could take care of myself. Under normal circumstances, sure.

After another ten minutes or so I tried to think of a plan. I banged on the walls to get the neighbours attention, slowly at first due to being scared the creature would hear me, then after about half an hour of caution I was full on wailing. No use. I tried shouting from the windows, too, and even considered jumping out. If I did squeeze myself through the window I’d be seriously hurt upon landing, and I’d also be locked out of the house. I didn’t want to try this, not yet. Instead, I tore off some toilet paper and wrote on it with shower gel the best I could, and threw a few pieces with ‘help’ squirted onto them out the window. I ended up making a mess more than anything, and I don’t imagine any strangers outside would’ve cared to look at soggy pieces of toilet paper, anyway.

So, three hours of crying, banging, and tearing off toilet paper later, and I start to wonder… Is there really anything out there? I’d been screaming and shouting for hours, so if there was anything out there it definitely would have heard me. Me, on the other hand… I hadn’t heard anything.

There was no key hole on the bathroom door to peer through, but I’d certainly heard nothing since I’d been in here. Then again, I didn’t remember hearing anything as it rose up the stairs, so maybe it was simply silent. Maybe it was just stood there, waiting patiently for me to open the door.

I tried looking under the door, but I was unable to see anything due to its low placement. It wasn’t low enough for there to be no gap, though. I could fit something thin under it. I tore off some more toilet paper, folded it, and pushed it under the door, just to see what would happen.

Obviously nothing happened. Silence. I reached to pull the paper back to my side of the door again.

SLAM.

Something hard hit the door. SLAM, SLAM, SLAM, SLAM. The door took hit after hit. It was as if the… thing was outside, lashing out at the door with everything it had, hurling its limp arms forward until its fists made contact with the splintering wooden door; pulling its head back and whipping its neck round, slamming its plain head into the door; throwing everything it had at the one think keeping it away from me. I was screaming for about 20 seconds, and had edged away from the door as much as I could. The door was splintering and cracking more and more after each hit.

Eventually I dived forward and grabbed the folded toilet paper and pulled it out from under the cracked door. Then, silence. Just as before. Not a single sound could be heard, as if the creature was never there.

So, here I am. After four hours, it’s clear I’m most certainly trapped. I’ve calmed down once again, I can almost feel the adrenaline rush wearing off. There doesn’t seem to be anything I can do here, other than wait.

And all this waiting comes with a lot of thinking. I wonder what would’ve happened if I didn’t decide to go to the bathroom at that moment. My bedroom door was wide open. I wonder if this thing would have just lumbered right in and started beating me. Or maybe worse. In fact, what did it want? I don’t remember it having a mouth, so it wouldn’t want me for food. Unless, of course, it eats in a different way. Maybe it would absorb me into its pale white flesh…

I wish there was something here to take my mind off it, but there’s nothing else to think about. Then again, maybe that’s a good thing- thinking about that thing outside is keeping me alert, ready in case something happens. Not alert enough, though. I’m getting tired now. I wish I’d gotten some more sleep last night.

You know, it had just hit eleven o’clock when I left my room. Such strange timing. It’s almost like that thing had appeared at eleven o’clock. I mean, I never heard anything enter the house or whatever. I was just sitting in my bedroom in silence. I didn’t hear anything.

Maybe that’s how it works. It can only enter our world at a particular hour. Maybe it isn’t always eleven, maybe it comes later some nights. Maybe earlier. In fact, maybe the time doesn’t matter. Maybe it appeared when I moved to go to the bathroom. Maybe it wanted this to happen.

You know, I’m so glad I glanced down the stairs before walking in here. Maybe it’s silent for a reason, because it doesn’t want to be detected. Maybe it wanted me to leave the bathroom and walk straight into it…

Damn it, that’s enough. I can’t stop thinking about it, and all I’m doing is coming up with stupid theories, slowly getting more paranoid. In reality, this isn’t so bad, I suppose. I have clean water here, and I can use the toilet and such. It really doesn’t seem like this thing knows how to open a door, either. Maybe I could sleep here. If mum and dad aren’t getting back until the morning, I guess I’ll just wait it out. I just hope that, when they get home, they have better luck at dealing with this thing than I’ve had.

I get up from sitting under the sink and leave the scrap of toilet paper on the floor. With dad’s razor still in hand, I sit in the bathtub, curl up and rest. Maybe I’ll fall asleep; I don’t have anything better to do. I sit, and as I drift off to slumber, I wonder what this thing is, wonder if it has friends. I wonder if these pale, silent, undetectable creatures enjoy this. Just standing, waiting behind doors. Waiting for us to show ourselves so they can finally get us.