Solitaire
3:30 am. Alone. Only company of yours would be the thoughts that ran wild, shuddering at the creeks and groans from the old house. Soft patter of rain on the foggy window pane, the eerie thought of being alone plagued every corner of your mind. Being alone for long periods of time can do things to the human brain, make you hear things, make you search your whole house looking in every dark corner trying to find the source of the noise. Only for you to chalk it up to it being all in your head.
You might even turn on some music or TV, to drown out the worrying sounds, but even that wont stop you from turning your head to look behind you, feeling as though your were being watched, but nothing would be there. It drove you mad, shutting all the curtains, because everytime you looked out into the dark and stromy night, you would swear you could see face on the other side, contorted with wide grin, piercing eyes that stared right back at you, rubbing your eyes and looking back only to find it was gone.
You would lay in bed, the warm soft blankets wrapped tightly around you, as you told yourself it was all in your mind, your brain was just playing tricks on you. You would close your eyes
trying to fall asleep, but everytime you would swear to hear the sounds of slow knocks one the glass, or faint footsteps from down the hall, and the sound of your bedroom door opening. You open your eyes looking at the door, to find it closed, scanning the rest of your room for anything to justify the sounds.
Nothing, like always, taking in deep breaths to calm your nerves. It'd only work for a short time before the wave of anxiety would hit again, scratching could be heard on other side of your door, your breathing quickened. Shooting up from the bed and swing your legs over the side, shivering as your feet touched the cold hard wood. Making your way to the door, slowly reaching for the door knob, fearing what could be on the other side. Surly this couldnt be a mind game, it felt all to real the scratching never ceased, like nails on a chalkboard.
Holding your breath, and tugging open the door, looking down the dark and empy hall way. The scratching had stopped, you let out the air from your lungs, a long shaky breath. All in your head. All. In. Your. Head. You slowly close the door, a soft click could be heard, signally it had been closed completely. Creeping back to the bed, exhausted, sinking into the soft mattress, curling up ready for sleep to take over. You close your eyes, but that same contorted face from windows, now appeared in you head, making your eyes shoot open. It was making you go insane, looking over at the digital clock on the nightstand bright red numbers reading 3:30 am.
Interesting, it feels as though its been hours, but the last time you'd checked the time, it had read the same time 3:30 am. You rubbed your eyes looking back at he clock to see if you read it wrong, still reading the same. Not even a minute had passed. Knocking from the front door, it sounded to real to be a trick, but.. Everything had sounded real too, there was no way in telling what was real anymore. Holding on to the sliver of hope you still had, hoping that maybe something you heard was real. Getting up, you head to the front door. Once infront of it, twisting the knob slowly opening the heavy wooden door. Nothing. Tears pricked your eyes, gust of wind hit your face, the rain still pouring down as it had been early. Wait. No. it has been the same time sense then, there has been no earlier, or later. Just the same time.
Tears began to slide down your cold cheeks. You closed the door softly, turning your back on the door, leaning against it sliding down. Curling up into a ball on floor, letting quite sobs fall from your chapped lips, the knocking started up again, along with scratching from the upstairs hallway. You cried louder, almost like you were trying to one up the textured sounds, but they only seemed to get louder aswell. Giving up, is all you had left. So thats what you did, slowly making your way to your welcoming couch, laying there with your head pressed against the armrest. Listening to the repeating tapping on glass, long nails against chalky paint, harsh knuckles on a hard wooden door, and the soothing down pour of rain from front the pitch black outside.
Tears sliding down your cheeks collecting on your chin and the tip of your nose. You sat there quietly, letting your hope go. Taking the last glance at the nearby clock.
3:30 am
When will it end?
