The Wolf That Lies Beneath

The Wolf Lies Beneath

Is that the wind or someone knocking? my mind wondered, barely waking.
I laid there with a sigh as consciousness overtook me, wanting nothing more then to drift off into the fluffy blankets. Slowly I lifted my head and shook my hair away. I glanced over at the window, trying to peer through the sheer fabric.
Was there a tree out there? I couldn't remember. My window butted up so close to the empty neighboring house I never bothered to venture over. Maybe there was a small shrub I had overlooked and the late October wind was causing it to frantically tap on my window.

My mind - now awake though my body never moved- knew I was lying, but fear kept coming up with excuses. That rhythm..

Two steady knocks then three fast. Over and again like a jiggle. I didn't think wind blew in tune, but maybe..

Knock . . . Knock . . . Knock knock knock...

Who in their right mind would shuffle down a foot-wide span to knock on my window instead of calling me? And why when it feels like I've only been asleep for a few hours?

I looked away from the window. It was pointless at such a dark hour of the night. I couldn't see anything. I grabbed my phone and checked the time.

3:33a.m. Really?

And not a single missed call or message. The only people I talked to definitely had my phone number and would know to use it. I had only been here a month so it's not like I had many friends and the ones I had made surely would not be out this late. At least, not without a phone.

I pulled myself up fully on the bed and dropped my feet to the cold wood floor. As I thought of turning to the window the knocking stopped, sending a chill through me.

Could they see me? I wondered as my hands tried to pull down the suddenly too small cami top. I felt exposed at the thought, but to push it away I rushed over to removed the veil. I shoved the curtains aside and ripped the window open to reveal nothing. There was no tree - no visible person ...

Nothing to be knocking on my window..

I was sure I had heard it. Just as I started to close the window a black cat with bright emerald eyes darted past the opening to the front of the house.

I sighed in relief. At least I'm not going insane. Then again, could cats even knock like that? The windows outer ledge looked no more than a few inches. Could he even get up there?

I was being ridiculous. And I felt a little embarrassed being scared of a cat, if I was being honest with myself. I slid the curtains closed and turned to run the several steps back to my bed where I could dream it never happened.

Only that's not what happened. I dreamt of things I had never even imagined. Out of all the years I could remember, never had I had a nightmare. I had a friend once that had nightmares and she would always be so afraid. I just never understood how she was scared of a dream. But when I woke cover in a sheen of sweat I was vividly aware of the terrors of nightmares.

It was just a bad dream from being scared before falling asleep. It's what I should have expected. Only, I knew it was a lie the second I thought it. I've went to bed plenty of times and had bad dreams. This was different. This was pure horror.

I couldn't shake the fear or gut wrenching knot in my stomach as I swung out of bed. I glanced to my window -half expecting to see someone's silhouette behind the now sheer fabric as light flickered in. There was nothing there, just my cream curtains.

Before I could completely lose it I turned away and shuffled past the beaded curtains of my door and into the hallway. I knew my parents were gone, but it still sank my heart a little to hear the house so still and quiet. They weren't loud or obnoxious, but the tv should be playing while Dad wrestles the news paper and the occasional frustrated murmur accompanied by the clanging of pans would mean my mother had started breakfast.