Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-29791712-20151228033414

Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this short story. I always love the feeling when I write something below 5,000 words. Don't forget to comment your feedback. Thank you.

It was minutes, seconds actually, before my mind edged towards the safe and blissful land of sleep that my ears heard that wretched yelling. My eyes darted with alarm immediately, and my heart banged and drummed against my chest with brutal and informal pressure.

It was a scream like no other I ever listened to in my life. I knew that exact second when I heard the scream that it throbbed out of a woman’s throat. The high intensity and pitch of the yelling provided insight to my assumption.

The woman’s howling voice of torture lingered on in the night’s air for what seemed like an eternity. It sounded murderous, as if the person who croaked such an atrocious screech was currently being tormented out of her own will. The woman’s yelped of desperation sustained such overwhelming intensity over my entire neighborhood. It provided a blanket of unease and apprehension at the sound of its enervating force. Towards the end of the woman’s shriek of agony, I heard a distant cry for help. It sounded muffled and muted towards the end, but I knew right away that the woman begged for some mercy from her tormentor. It was her final pleading shout of weak hope and wishful salvation that caused this demon of nervousness to slump me down with anxiety.

The claws and fangs of paranoia sank its teeth and nails down at my skin, muscle, and spine with zero restriction. My bones rattled at the ice-piercing touch of surrealism as it settled down on top of my body with dense and unnerving weight. At first I shook and shivered like an enigmatic madman with no sense of intelligence or well-being. A wave of dread flooded my thoughts, and left me drowning with dismay and trepidation. The only way to soothe my horror was to vibrate my entire body like a terrorized child with no control of his own movements.

But then a sensation of someone watching me compiled on top of that claustrophobia my body failed to overpower. This caused my body to react with steadiness, and I laid still with my limbs and body frozen with tremor. Even when my ligaments ached to tremble and move, I commanded my entire body to remain as still as a statue. I closed the curtain of my eyes with hesitant movement, but I came to accept the darkness of my room with delight and protection.

I figured that whoever may be peaking at me, maybe if I laid still without a single movement detectable, the serial killer would fail on discerning my wakefulness, and would move on towards another unfortunate victim. I believed in this theory ever since my younger days as a child. I always used to lay still whenever a tiny squeak or noise caught my attention in the middle of the night. It always helped me take control of the situation, and provide reassurance of my safety.

I found it hysterical that I would resort to such immature methods, and found it even more hilarious—or saddening—that I accomplish this with pure instinct, as if my brain planned to use this next technique. I always remembered relying heavily on the darkness of my room, because of how impossible it was for anyone to notice even the faintest of shifting.

I imagined the irrational human being desiring to kill me to just stand over me, his looming shadow practically smuggling my body, and gleaming at me with his unreadable eyes. This only added to my paranoia, but also rendered an incentive to keep still longer. I even held my breath for as long as a minute in order to make myself as furtive and as undetectable as humanly possible.

I waited for something to happen, anything, yet the night offered no trouble for me at the moment. Even as a child, despite my insane and wild imagination, I deeply knew that my environment was safe. I figured that nothing will ever happen to me, and that my house guarded me with perfect protection.

But at that moment as an adolescent still living with his parents for one more year, the scream I heard suggested otherwise. It broke and violated the boundaries of safety I barricaded myself with. I thought the walls of infinite protection proved impervious, but it seemed as if that abysmal shout crumbled my illusion into its deniable and unforgiving reality.

Exhaustion once ceased my body, but at the moment my mind felt alerted and shot despite its previous indolence. Soon, however, he pressure on my eyes endeavored to remain wide and wakeful, and my tiredness seemed more welcoming than my building fear of the unknown. I calmed my mind and body down until it reached a tranquil level of placidity, and drifted off to the first stage of a long and restful sleepiness.

But once again the screams from hell rose to disturb my withering soul, and instead of dilating my eyes with attention, I leaped out of my bed as if the sheets caught on fire. A loud thump sounded off in the air due to my feet slamming against the cold floor below. My heart raced a million miles, attempting to launch out of my chest with petulant force. My breathing altered from a mellow pattern to an episodic and hustling exhales of breaths. My limbs and skin felt for one distinctive second completely misplace, and I found it hard to adjust to this definitive bewilderment taking hostage of my conscious. It caused my body to feel wired up with pain and adrenaline all at the same time.

I calculated my steps at the moment, and made sure to proceed my next intentions with precise measurements. I first concluded to the fact that a killer may be roaming around my neighborhood at this exact second, and that he or she may be near around my house. From the angle of the scream from my house, I guessed that the murderer remained only houses away—maybe a street away from my current position. I questioned whether or not I should flick on the lights in my room, but thought that this would indicate my awareness, and cause the killer to infiltrate my house.

Well, if he or she hadn’t already done so.

I snatched my iPhone at that exact second, emitted on the flashlight, and made to depart from my room. Before I left, however, I glimpsed for one quick second at the window behind me.

I blamed and berated my mind from watching all of those home-invasion videos and stories, infecting my head with such chaotic thoughts. All I bothered to think about was the fact that someone, anyone, may be sneaking a quick look at my window in order to sneer inside my room with uninvited eyes. Just the lonesome thought of someone’s eyes only inches away from my glass window sent drips of ice to slip and freeze my entire spinal cord. It caused all of the saliva in my mouth and lips to swell and disappear, and to desiccate my tongue until it dried up like a desert.

I dubiously maundered my way closer to my window, thanking all the gods and heavens in the world that the curtain concealed the image portraying from the other side of the view. I recall always witnessing only pure darkness and mystery the few moments the curtains were up. I only hope that my eyes would gaze at pure shadows, but even this thought made me panic. Behind all of those tenebrous layers could remain a pair of malicious and sinful eyes, and I would have no idea that I would be glaring at another human being—or possibly a devil. But the person on the other side of the perspective would contain all the knowledge in the situation, and practically mock my ignorance as that demon continued to stare at me without my own self knowing the slightest clue of the danger that awaited me.

So I stood inches away from my window, the screams from the past still haunting my mind and soul as I mustered up the guts to pull the curtains open. The perfect advice about accomplishing something daring and risky is that you must go forth with whatever precarious action without a second to think about what you’re doing. If you do not plan or analyze ahead of time, you won’t have to deal with your sanity pleading for you to change your course of action.

Before I realized it, I pulled down hard on the curtain’s strings in order to emancipate the darkness that laid forth.

Nothing awaited me. My catastrophic expectations diminished as the sight of shadows filled my field of view. The thought of the darkness hiding a pair of mischievous eyes still stayed intact to my brain, but I figured this to be only an addition to my overall paranoia. After all, what were the odds of any real danger actually happening to me? I mean we’ve all experienced this little episode of traumatizing and pretended fear, only to laugh and joke about how spurious our frightfulness was that one time.

Life offers us a hint of that true fear to come across our lives, but this is only a preview—or a little dab—of the true experience lived by some unfortunate victims. Even when we pass through these “nightmarish terrors” during one long and onerous night on a weekend, we somehow know we forced or milked most of the fake horror you claim to your friends and family that it was true. In fact I truly believe we thrive for this tiny episode of horror all for the sake to be entertained one boring night—especially those who crave and contain an addiction for the macabre as yours truly does. It is why we adore slasher films, and find it intriguing despite its negative and offensive message to those who actually live through some of those nightmares.

So I cachinnated to myself, and altered my outlook of this entire night. I inculcated to myself that there was no real danger or calamity awaiting me. I said to myself that my imagination took the better of me, as it so often does, and only played a mean but critical joke on me. Because truly, what were the odds of some nefarious act falling upon me? I’m just some teenager living an average life, experiencing typical young adult things like heading out with friends, dating girls, and occasionally dealing with some nasty gossip. The algorithms of a murderer, let alone some demon, attempting to eviscerate my body, or psychologically scar me with permanent terrors, were far pass me. My whole life the only true danger I dealt with happened to a million of other teenagers in America. What made me different?

And then I heard it. My ears caught the sound of a low, quiet, but impacting growl that seemed to have come from outside near my backyard.

I found myself perplexed the first second the moaning sound emitted off in the air, and traveled into my ear into the depths of my conscious. I thought to myself, “This isn’t happening, right?” I even created a comical joke out of pure hysteria. I mean, what the actual fuck, right?

But then it settled on me. The lucid and exuberant horrific vibe tore free from its restraining chains, and crashed into me without censoring its influence. My legs wobbled at the collision of this fear that took me by surprised, astonished me, and then again smacked me with a fist filled with bewilderment. The screams I heard previously seemed like an appetizer compared to the grand meal the moaning sound affected me with. That almost unnoticeable sound belittled those screams from the past, and made them appear futile compared to the clash of doubt that it kicked me with.

I thought of my parents, and how truly safe they were. I envied them at the moment since they were so ignorant to the rise of hell cracking from the concrete at the moment. I resented the fact that I stood up late this weekend, and made a commitment to myself that I will never stay up pass midnight ever again.

Of course, that was if I lived…

I made the decision then and there to investigate all the commotion unfolding itself outside. I almost felt obligated to do so. At this point, why shouldn’t I. I knew for a fact I wouldn’t be able to return to sleep, and how could I with all of this tension and worrying bumping inside my head constantly.

I exited my room with thorough and stealthy steps, making sure my old wooden floors wouldn’t creek. The corridor from my room to my living room appeared crossed and overlapped with millions of shadows. I hesitated whether or not I should turn on my flashlight, since if I did so I rose the possibility of waking up my parents. So instead I just carefully crossed through the hallway, keeping my eyes wide and observant for anything possible.

Even walking through this small passageway I felt that paranoia unwind itself inside my stomach. The darkness smuggled against my sight to the point where I deluded myself spotting tiny critters in the shadows emancipating from the walls and floors. The light touch of air that touched my back and neck made me feel as if someone was breathing down on me. I straightened my spine at this notion, and dissuaded myself from turning around. I said to myself that if the monster behind me had no idea I noticed it, it wouldn’t bother to kill me. Maybe it just found pleasure in teasing me, so I allowed it to toy with my psyche for as long as it desired.

Finally I escaped from the depths of my hallway, and into the living room. A small light shone near the kitchen, but barely luminous to the point where it’d attract attention. I skipped over the brightness of the light, for safety measures, and landed on the other side of my living room near the main entrance.

My clammy palm reached over the doorknob, and turned it slightly. A small clicking sound followed with my motion. The drive to rush away from my house overcame my joints, but I convinced myself to take my time with my egress. I pulled very delicately at the door, and listened closely as the hinges hummed with a rough and rusty crackling sound. The wooden door also creaked like an ancient piece of furniture. The night air slithered from outside, and swirled all over my body with a cool and ghastly touch. All the sweat pouring out from my skin chilled down to the point where my shirt felt like the suit of a snowman. The sweat from my eyebrows and forehead turned into a clean sheet of ice.

I crept out of my house, and made sure to close the door as cautiously as I did to open it. The night fully embraced me once I stepped out completely. Where I once only heard the sound of my fridge’s buzz, I now began hearing all sorts of random and arrhythmic noises bounced out into the night sky. Cars zoomed near my street at great speeds, their motors rustling out a brusque sound that made my arms grow gooseflesh. I listened to the trees rattling against the wind, and how the leaves danced and swayed with the occasional breeze.

The prodigious lunar moon above sprayed a white hue that made the buildings near my home sparkle and glitter. I concentrated on that immense shine of light in order to reassure myself of my safety.

I descended down my steps while holding on to the railing with a tight grip. The autumn wind continued to twirl around my hair and body, and I blessed the breeze for calming my nerves. It almost massaged all of my stressed out muscles.

I dropped down on the top of my drive-way, and stomped down until I reached the small gate that leads to my backyard. After I passed through the gate, however, I had to pass through a small passageway that leads to my backyard. This small area connects to my neighbor’s own backyard and house, and is separated from this small green little gate.

I held on to the extended gate as I nearly crawled my way towards my backyard. The gate seemed breakable and easy to collapse, so I tried not to depend on it too much for my own safety.

My neighbor’s dog barked out of nowhere as I’m half-way close to my backyard. I let out a small yelp of surprise and fear before I sprint head-first into my backyard. The fucking animal always ruined my day or night. I can recall a plethora of times the dog either barked during the middle of the night when I would be attempting to go to sleep, or during some summer mornings when everyone in the goddamn neighborhood wishes to catch some last-minute sleep. I always craved to just kick the damn thing by how obnoxious it can be.

I entered—or more like tripped—into my backyard with all the air in my chest vaporized in just a small running session. The fear the dog gave me did more to snatch away all of my oxygen than the quick jog. I rested my palms against my knees as I tried to regain my breath. More sweat drenched my own body, and I felt this constant change from warm to coldness was going to give my body a sickly cold.

That silenced moaning sound sparked alive once again.

I stopped my breathing. This time I knew, I absolutely knew, the odds of my survival. My life seemed to linger away from my grip, and not only that, but also my sanity let loose inside my head. Crazy, irrational, and inarticulate thoughts just sprouted in my head with disastrous features. My mind struggled with fight or flight, and this battle nearly broke my dysfunctional cranium. I vacillated between confronting whatever predator dared to bother my neighborhood, and running away as fast as I can for my own precious life.

Because at that moment, I placed so much value in my life. Sometimes we delude ourselves, and say to ourselves that we can face death in its face. No. Death emits a hiss so ungodly and ridicule that you would pray for the rest of your life to never feel death’s bubbling and destructive breath on the base of your neck. Death carries a face that even a blind man would find it formidable. The energy that leaks out of it just makes your nerves twist to the point where you feel your insides tie together into a compressed knot.

The sound came from the left side of my backyard where I stood. I gingerly reached down my pockets, and fished out my iPhone. I turned on the small screen, and rose the bottom slide up in order to turn on the flashlight. The shiny cylinder of light shot out from the other side of the phone, and illuminated my backyard with a ball of shine. Leaves and branches littered my backyard with a moist and mushy feel to it due to the rain we had a couple of days ago.

Even as I rose the flashlight to where I believe I heard the noise, all of my instincts and visceral thoughts screamed at me to just turn the other cheek, and dash away while I still can. My muscles twitched in defiance of what I desired to do. I fought against every organ, muscle, ligament, joint, and even sub-conscious with my own cognitive conscious in order to fucking raise my flashlight to where I heard the noise. It seemed as if even nature joined in on the battle, since a harsh and penetrable wind blew downward, and prevented me from lifting my hand by how aggressive the breeze shot down.

But I proved as consistent and as stubborn as people perceive me to be. And for once, I felt a sense of equanimity finally take over my body. All the confidence and temerity I desired to search for in order to overcome my fears finally settled upon my mind and heart. I felt some surging hope that maybe the end of my story would turn out with me escaping my little tale unharmed.

The light displayed a small animal—a small cat—trapped inside one of the holes in my backyard’s gate by the paw. The sensitive animal yearned to pull itself free from the gate’s tight hole, but it failed to slip away from its slavish hold.

My heart dropped for one second, and then rose back up the same instant. I approached the fray little animal with a wide grin on my face. I felt downright stupid stressing myself out over a goddamn cat. How ridiculous could I have been? I prevented myself from laughing out loud, but I couldn’t help but to giggle at the cruel comedy of my situation. Even I knew what a fool I made myself to be.

I pitied the cat, even though I personally hate them, and helped the small animal free itself from its trap. I watched the feline leap away as fast as its leg could possibly go, and escape out of my backyard with no permanent damage on its limbs.

Even as I turned away from the gate near the back of my backyard, I just kept on laughing to myself. It really felt nice at letting it all go with laughter and smiles. I couldn’t wait to tell my parents the crazy night I just went through.

“Do not move.”

The voice not only spoke, but whispered right next to my ear.

I hauled to a stop almost immediately, and pissed my pants that very same second. I felt the warm and disgusting drops of my urine damp my sweatpants, and the smell of loathsome asparagus filled my noise with a vile scent.

“''You nasty cunt. You fucking pissed yourself, didn’t you? What a stupid child.''”

This time, my mind went blank. Horror overcame me to a point where it shut off all of my brain’s function. All I could do was just stand in the middle of my backyard with my pants wet with piss, and my heart bruising the inside of my chest. Every heartbeat caused this ache in my throat. Time slowed down to the point of perpetual seconds. Even the wind drifted away in fright of the man’s deep and demented voice. The air stood as still as I did. My whole world became sucked in by the man’s voice, as if it created a void which spat out any other distraction.

“''Listen to me carefully. I don’t want you moving that flashlight of yours anywhere else but where it is right now. If you move it near where I am standing, then I will gash your eyeballs out. If you even dare try to sneak a peek at my face or body, I’ll rape your mother upstairs. Do you understand me? Nod your head if you do, and like I said, your eyeballs better stay placed in the direction you’re staring at right now''.”

I gingerly nod my head.

“''Good. Now hear me out. I want you to turn off your flashlight, and to just go inside your house without looking back. If you look back, I’ll slit your throat. I want you to go back inside your room, and to fall asleep as if nothing ever happened. If you dare try warning or waking up your parents, I will cut open your father’s stomach. Do you understand me? Don’t even try to contact the police, because I will find out, and I will stab you into pieces before they even get here. Do I make myself clear?''”

A few seconds passed by without anyone saying anything.

I felt a rapier and cold object poke my stomach, near my waist, with a sharp and blood-boiling touch.

”I asked, do I make myself clear?”

I nodded my head with impatience.

The pointy object inched closer to my skin, nearly slicing my shirt. “I want to hear you say it.”

I gulped with frustration. “Ye- Yes…”

“''Good. Now get the fuck out of here. You never heard or seen anything, alright kid? I promise you I won’t hurt you or your family, if you just follow my instructions. Okay kid? Now leave.''” Before I allowed myself to exit, I listened closely to where the man whispered his demanding words. A low, sobbing noise came from the man’s direction. It sounded like some person wincing, but stopping him or herself from unleashing a cry filled with agony.

I did as the man told me to do. During the entire trip back to my room, I didn’t even bother to hesitate my movements or try to glance back. I just made my way into my room, and dropped on top of my bed like the good boy he desired me to be.

But I didn’t fall asleep as he wished me to do. I couldn’t.

So instead, I stood in the same position on my bed the entire night, but with my eyes closed so he could believe I fell asleep. I even recited the same breathing patterns to make my concealment more believable. I just laid with my entire body stiff without movement, and my arms crossed against my chest as if he dug my grave.

And the entire time, I felt his eyes watching me. Watching every inhale and exhale. Watching as my chest rose and fell. Watching as my eyes rolled inside my eyelids. Just how I used to pretend when I was a child. When I used to lay still in my bed, and controlled my body from moving. All of that practice proved useful. But still, he watched.

I felt that violation one feels, or that harassment, when being stalked or kept in strict surveillance. Inside me a loud, rambunctious, but tenuous little soul yelled and cried at its misery. No matter what my life succumbed to after that night, he will forever be watching me.

But I believe I fucked up. I messed up really badly. It’s been a week, and nothing has happened. Still, I sense something utterly dreading awaiting me.

Because he watched me as I cried the entire night. 