A Collection of Words

He Was No More

He sat down on the couch and stayed stagnant, the sound of the clock ticking become louder whenever the handles moved. The porcelain clown glared at him from the mantelpiece, giving him an eerie tingle that traveled down his back. The chandelier flickered on and off until all of a sudden the room was plunged into darkness.

His heartbeat quickened and his breathing grew louder, the sound of the clock becoming deafeningly loud. He tried to stay completely quiet, knowing that if he moved he would mess this whole plan up and he would be taken.

He heard the door to the room creak open, and hushed footsteps enter the room. It ambled around the room for a while, then all went quiet. He could no longer hear the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece, which could only mean it had stilled all the sounds. Sweat poured down his forehead and a tear rolled down his face, but he stayed still. He was utterly terrified.

A few minutes, or what felt like an eternity after everything went silent, he heard something breathing in his ear. He felt like whimpering but he knew he would be exposed if he did, it relied only on it's hearing. A sharp object caressed his cheek and he jerked slightly, but he was too rigid to make any noise so it didn't detect him. He heard it sludging away and the sound of the door slowly creaking as it closed.

The chandelier above him began to rattle, the glass bulbs clinking against the metal holders. The light turned on, illuminating the room. He blinked a few times until his eyes were accustomed to the light. He glanced up to the mantelpiece where he'd seen the clown last and it was absent. The chandelier flickered again and he yelped quietly, thinking that it had returned once again. But the light never turned off so he stood up and slowly edged to the door, spying through the tiny keyhole. The hallway outside of the room was dimly lit, which suggested that it wasn't near. It wasn't fond of light. He clutched his key in his shaking hand and unlocked the door, wandering out into the dimly lit hallway and locking the door behind him. He tiptoed into the hallway, trying to avoid squeaking floorboards until he exited out the front door onto the porch.

There were no lights outside to guide his footsteps but he sprinted anyway, afraid that somehow it would be able to leave the house and come after him even though the house was the only place it could roam. He went to grab his phone from his pocket but discovered it wasn't there. Cursing, he checked his other pockets which came up with the same result. He sighed and paced back to the house, almost tripping on a root that was sticking up from the ground while he looked down at any place his phone might have fallen. It was a warm and humid night and he had sweat dripping down him from running away and pacing back again. He made it to the porch with no luck and decided to grab a knife that he'd placed on the ground earlier.

Of all places, he'd left his phone in the room. It was the only place that it might be.

He walked into the house and a floorboard creaked slightly, making him jump. A light flickered and sweat ran down his forehead as he tried to quickly make his way down the hallway without making too much noise. He heard police sirens in the distance and frowned, knowing that he'd have to move fast or he'd get caught. He stood at the door and hastily unlocked it with his key, not caring to peek through the keyhole to see if there was any light coming from the room.

Opening the door, he could see that he'd made a huge mistake as the room was pitch black. He fumbled for his key and tried to slam the door shut but the door stopped moving and he wasn't able to push it shut. There was something on the other side of the door jamming it. He gave up trying to shut it and let go of the door, trying to scurry to the end of the hallway and onto the porch. Not looking where he was running, he bumped into the sidetable and fell to the ground, crying out when he felt his ankle give way and heard a sickening crack. The pain was too much to deal with. He attempted to get up on his other foot but he was too slow. The lights in the hallway flickered and went out.

Police sirens could be heard in the distance, louder than they were before. He became rigid, too mortified to move. Although it was pitch black, he could feel it's strong presence in the hallway coming closer every second until he heard and felt soft warm breaths against his ear. He was too terrified to move and the pain from his ankle was unbearable. A few seconds were what felt like an eternity until he felt it place it's hand on his shoulder, which was when he knew it was all over. It pushed him to the ground and he laid on the cold floorboards with it's hand still crushing down his shoulder, waiting for his inevitable death.

Pain pulsed through the nerves of his body to his brain as it shoved it's hand down his throat and to his heart, but he didn't feel like he was dying. Even as it pulled out his heart, he wasn't dying. He cried out and tried to pull out his hair because the pain was too much, but he wasn't dying. Seconds went past as he felt pain unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It slowly pulled it's hand out of his frail body and he looked on in horror as he saw his heart in it's hand. He laid there immobile and coughing up blood, shaking from the trauma and the agony. He heard it sauntering away from him but he had no will or strength to try and escape.

He was in too much immense pain. The police sirens were deafeningly loud, so he assumed that they would be here soon and he would be stolen. All of a sudden, all noise ceased and all he could hear was the ringing in his ears from the sirens. He heard a door bang open and heavy footsteps and creaks from the floorboards and there were policemen surrounding him.

One of them raised his intercom to his mouth. "We have a code 12, requesting backup and an ambulance as soon as possible."

He replied weakly, "no, it's not going to be alright. It's here, it's coming back for me. I'm going to die, I don't know why I haven't yet. It already has my heart but it wants my brain. I'm going to die. You need to get out of here, it's going to kill you."

The men looked at each other. One of them whispered to the other, "You think he's escaped from a mental institution or something?", then in a louder voice he said, "look mate, you're hallucinating or something, there's nothing here to hurt you or us, we're safe. You look like you've stabbed yourself and we aren't sure how mentally stable you are so we'll have to sedate you." He reached for something in his belt and grabbed a needle.

He tried to struggle away from the needle as it was brought closer towards him but it was no use because he was in too much pain and the others were holding him down so he couldn't break away. He howled as the policeman brought down the needle and jabbed him with it. A tear rolled down the side of his face, the hallway and the chandelier above him started to go blurry and then everything went blank. He was no more.