Noises in the Night

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.

Our grandfather clock loudly chimed the arrival of 2 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.