House of Broken Silence

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

            Andrea finished her guitar solo, and immediately turned to Stanley.  She looked at him with such powerful emotion, of which she could not place.  Was it pity?  Was it anger?  Was it fear?  As she observed the paralyzed Stanley that stood next to her, she anticipated his next action.  He began to sob violently, glancing at the crowd in between sobs.

            Andrea almost forgot that they were on a stage, and when she looked out upon the crowd of 627 confused and bewildered faces, she blushed.  She had no idea what to do except to watch what Stanley would do next.  She looked out at the audience once more, and for less than a second, she could have sworn that she had just seen one of the most vile of scenes.  She could have sworn that the audience members’ eyes hung from their sockets. 

            That was when a harsh scream pierced her thoughts.  She turned to see Stanley screaming.  Out of all the seven years Stanley had lived in Chestercoine, Andrea had never seen or heard him cry, let alone scream.  It was then that a message entered Andrea’s mind.  She heard Stanley’s voice, but not with her ears, saying, This is hell.  Judging from the viewers’ reactions, they had received the message as well.

            The sobbing and screaming had ceased.  Stanley wore a straight face, and stood upright.  He jumped off the stage, and walked between two rows of seats to the front entrance of the theatre.  He pushed the door open, and left.  What proceeded was quite unsettling.  Everyone applauded.

            No one really knew why they were applauding, but they clapped and shouted and whistled so loud that it could be heard from Tinker Street, over half a mile away.  Stanley and Andrea would’ve certainly won the talent show, if the judges knew what they were clapping for.  Andrea walked off stage and decided to drive home in her car; she couldn’t care less about the rest of the talent show, and she couldn’t care more about Stanley.  On her way home, she saw him, walking down the road by himself, touching the edge of the forest’s darkness.  She slowed to a stop and rolled down her window.

            “Hey buddy, you want a ride?” she asked him.  Stanley turned to face her, and she saw darkness and death and blood in his eyes.  She saw everything beautiful in the world die and she saw everything ugly in the world thrive.  She saw Stanley, still screaming and crying, underneath all the malice and pain, hushed to mere whisper.  She heard him say one word in a muffled whisper: help.  Andrea slammed her foot on the gas without hesitation, and did not stop until she reached her home.  She knew from deep within her heart that whatever she saw on the side of the road was not her friend.  A thought began to touch the edges of her mind: what if it wasn’t human?

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            Stanley found himself in the grip of a soft monster that was engulfing him.  He couldn’t see anything around him, only darkness.  After three minutes of violently waving his arms and legs, he realized that he was only covered in blankets in his bed, not a monster.  The darkness that surrounded him was the natural darkness of night.

            A dream.  That was it.  Stanley found himself believing that for a few short seconds before he remembered the vividness of it all.  Dreams weren’t something lived as much as seen.  What about the other dream then?  Stanley was left with a headache and got out of bed to get a glass of water.  The moment his feet touched the floor, Snowball began weaving in and out of his owner’s legs in the shape of a figure eight.  “Go to bed, cat,” Stanley groaned in his baritone voice that gained him many girlfriends when he attended high school and college. 

            He started down the spiral staircase and halfway down it, saw a shadow curving around the wall.  It was the silhouette of a person.  He jumped, and, without a railing to grip, fell down the stairs to the bottom.  He screamed at the top of his lungs when a sharp pain seemed to spread through his entire body.  The sound of his own scream had scared him.  Unable to pinpoint the source of the pain, he stayed still, hoping the pain would dissipate and he could stand up and get help.

As he held his head between his knees, the doorbell rang.  He gasped and immediately looked at the door.  The shadow I saw…  Hysteria had instantly overtaken Stanley.  He hyperventilated and rapidly turned from his left to his right.  That was when whoever was outside began to violently bang on the door.

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            Stanley was kneeling behind the kitchen counter when the door broke down.  He clutched the knife in his hand as tightly as possible as he heard the footsteps of the intruder.  Tears had flooded his eyes when he crawled to his current position, because the pain that he pinpointed in his left thigh was too overwhelming to bear.  Lightheaded and scared, Stanley thought he might faint.

            The footsteps came closer and closer, and Stanley couldn’t help feeling like a helpless horror movie character: stupid, alone, and doomed.  The intruder was right around the corner of the counter Stanley was behind; he could see his hairless, thin legs. 

For a moment Stanley froze, and then he slashed the knife across the invader’s left leg.  He could tell that he cut at least one artery, and might’ve hit the bone, judging by how deep the cut was (about three inches) and the blood loss rate.  The injured man lay on the floor wailing, and Stanley wanted to see the look of suffering on this stranger’s face.  But, when he finally managed to prop himself up on the side of the counter, he brought a violently quivering, bloody hand to his mouth.  He didn’t expect to recognize the face of the interloper, but he wouldn’t have ever guessed that it was Andrea, either.