Familiar Quiet and Unknown Sound

Silence is never absolute. There are always sounds. The creak of a house. The rattle of the wind. The rustle of a leaf. We simply never assign any note to the noises that are our daily companions. The mind accepts them as normal, as safe, and allows us to comfortably ignore them. Such was my home, for years. Surrounded by the familiar, I would snuggle down into my evenings, hot mug in hand and with a woollen blanket’s embrace. Alone, I would accept the move and sway of my little world and pay it no mind. Until one night. The evening where foreign, threatening sounds became my tormentors, and their source, my nightmare.

I had returned from my daily grind, kicking off my shoes and swapping a skirt and blouse for slacks. Dinner for one was served from a packet and the kettle was flicked on a quarter full. I ignored a buzzing call from my mother, tossing my cell phone onto the kitchen counter. Living alone had never bothered me. But my overbearing mother would fuss and nag that I needed a husband. That a house needed a man. I never felt that way. I was capable, and what I didn’t know, I could learn. I had never met a man that brought anything but more difficulty into my life. There must be those out there that did bring value, otherwise happy marriages like my parent’s wouldn’t exist. My father was one of the good ones. I had just never had the privilege of encountering one such rare specimen. Hell, even the cat that I had loved so dearly, had scratched my furniture, messed on the carpet and then walked out, never to return. Despite it having been a year and knowing Jasper was gone for good, the little rascals toys still sat in the corner of the room. A reminder not to allow another in. The last had been too painful. Both man and beast alike. I was not bitter, simply resigned to give up the search and trust to fate that one day a partner of some merit would cross my path. One who could stick around for the long haul. Until then, I was happy to rest my work weary bones before my old log fire, drink my hot tea and shelter from the night within my solid stone walls. I let out a sigh of contentment as I settled into another night of warmth, my bare toes caressing the soft blanket and the low light of my favourite lamp easing my eyes. The wind blew in gentle gusts against the curtained windows and the ticking clock in the hallway added an unconscious rhythm. When a loud, dull thud sounded against the tin roof, directly above my head, my entire body convulsed in shock. It was not a friendly, common sound, but a violent and malevolent crash. I wrenched upward, my tea washing over the rim of my mug and burning my hand, the book falling from my lap into a heap on the floor and before I knew it my feet were planted on the bare floorboards and my blanket was sliding down my legs.

My breath came heavy as I slowly crept around the room, staring up at the spot the sound had come from. When it didn’t repeat and no further danger made itself known, I began to let go of some of the tension that held my muscles. Giggling quietly, I shook my head.

“Come on, Madeline. Get a grip. It was probably just a branch or something” I muttered to myself.

I paced over to where all my things had fallen in a heap and began picking them back up, tutting at the drips of tea on the cream rug and the stinging stain on the back of my hand. I paused, blanket in my grip, as my ears warned of another new sound. Light scratching against metal. My eyes roved upward, slowly, as if I would find something on the ceiling. I saw nothing of course, whatever was scraping its way over the roof was on the outside. But scraping it was. Like talons or nails dragging across the tin, moving toward the front of the building. Toward the windows.

I held my breath as it moved methodically across the roof. Dragging, scraping points that I tracked with my ears and imagined with my eyes. I willed it to be a branch, a fallen stick or windswept bush. But I knew in my heart there was nothing like that growing over my home. This was something else. But it had to be something normal, something explainable. Something that wasn’t dangerous…only unknown. I abandoned that lie when I heard it leap from the roof and thud onto the earth of my lawn, then rustle itself into the bushes that bordered the garden. Dropping my comforts I scuttled into the doorway between lounge and kitchen, eyes wide and looking into every corner for imagined threats. I turned and gazed at the cascade of fabric curtain that blocked whatever was outside from view. I felt the morbid urge to go and peek around it, but I knew it was the only protection that stood between me and whatever was out there. I pulled my cell phone into hand from the kitchen counter and held it in my grip, then thought twice. What was I going to do? Call my mother and tell her there was a scary noise outside? That would only give her more ammunition against my chosen lifestyle.

“I can deal with this myself…” I whimpered.

With a flash of inspiration I drew the longest kitchen knife from the block like a sword, holding it in two hands and taking one careful step at a time toward the window. The meagre weapon gave me a paltry courage. By the time I reached the curtains drape, all was the normal level of quiet. Still, it felt as though there was something waiting for me beyond the glass. Agonisingly slowly I squeezed the thick fabric in my fingers and slid it the barest centimetre aside. It took a moment for my eyes to pierce out into the darkness, after which I saw...nothing. There were the normal bushes, the usual grass and the expected shape of my small garden. Yet, it didn’t feel right. I knew what I had heard and I wasn’t about to let my guard down so easily. So I remained still. Watching. Waiting. I could sense something out there, as if it were staring patiently back, mirroring my curiosity. I was vindicated by what I saw next. A pair of yellow eyes, flashing, only for a second from between the branches, before withdrawing into the darkness again. There was a monster out there, a demon or a ghoul. I knew it for sure. The confirmation affirmed my fears, and grew them.

The sight of those eyes took me by surprise and I yelped, pulling backward from the window. It was a shameful response for a capable woman, but I couldn’t help it. Those beaming eyes were so surreal, low to the ground and…alien. It wasn’t a moment later that I heard the terrible scratching again. The scraping of nails against timber. Against the door. Whatever form of creature it was that had landed on my roof, now that it had seen me, wanted inside. It had moved supernaturally quickly to the other side of the house. My lips began quivering uncontrollably. I knew I was strong, that I was brave, that I was independent. But I was afraid. So terribly afraid. I had no weapons but my kitchen knife. I wasn’t powerful or able to fight. Maybe I did need to let someone in…to allow someone to protect me…maybe there was some value to having a responsible man who was twice my size and would not think twice about going and checking what was outside. But I didn’t have that. I had only myself. So I ignored by weak knees, and stepped forward anyway.

The scratching intensified with each step. It grew faster, deeper and more aggressive. As if the creature knew I was coming. Each footfall felt like an anvil, my body not wanting to advance, but my mind knowing that I must. As I reached the door, my hand shook as it raised the knife. The other was wracked with tremors as it reached out and grasped the handle, then froze as my fingers clamped down around the metal. I took one deep breath, readied myself, turned the knob, and cracked the door. A black wave of evil shot at speed through the tiniest of gaps that opened around the frame. I screamed in fear, hard enough that my chest cramped and my throat closed. I spun in place, heart tearing through my rib cage and eyes wide, ready to regard my death. There he sat, innocently licking one paw, only to cock his head and meow at me a question. Jasper had decided to come home. Through heavy panting breaths I chuckled, then roared with laughter at my own foolishness. He only looked at me in confusion as I wrapped my arms around my belly and fought to control my mirth and relief.

“Hello, Boy,” I squeezed out, “It’s good to see you…don’t do that again…”