A Cold Night

I was all snuggled up like a ball wrapped under my woollen blanket. The night was cold and the bed was warm. Even the glass panes on the window were covered in a layer of mist. 

The comfort was broken by a slight jerk of my bed. There was a noise, a slight creaking of wood, and then a rustle as if something is being dragged under my bed. My eyes were wide awake. Only a faint moonlight gave me company. The darkness in the room suddenly seemed threatening. The noise went on like a whisper. It was as if the bed was possessed by a demon. I was starting to perspire and my heart drummed as if to scare whatever was beneath the bed.

There was a table by my side with a candle and two match sticks. I cautiously lighted the candle and placed it quietly where it had been. The room appeared brighter. The electric switches were far away.

I needled through the blanket like a worm and reached the edge of the bed.  I held my breath and looked down, under the bed. There was nothing there but more darkness.

The candle seemed to have scared the invading darkness in the room. I got down from the bed. The room was small, it smelt of decaying wood and unwashed sock. I looked behind me. The fogged grey windowpane was glittering with tiny lights as if there were fireflies outside. I tried to flip the electric switch and nothing happened.

I picked up my candle and walked towards the window. The fireflies were growing in brightness, the specks of light were multiplying. Just then, the silence of the night shattered and I screamed. The window was no longer in one piece. A long crack ran along the middle revealing the fireflies; they were people with torches. Someone had thrown a stone at the window.

Some of the missing glass pieces were on the floor and cracked when I stepped on them. There was a sting as if something bit my bare feet. I stepped back, but slipped on a piece of glass and fell on my back. The candle evaded my grip and slipped. The curtain by the window began to glow. I watched as the flicking flame of my candle devoured the curtain.

I felt a warm trickle down my face. I discovered a few glass shards still sticking to my face like thorns. A cold wind sneaked through the gap in the window and made me shiver. Drops of dark blood smeared in my hands and dripped on the floor, as I plucked the glass shards from my face. Smoke from the dying curtain danced in the air.

My body began to tremble, the drumming resumed.

I tried to crawl towards the wooden door. I felt that the relentless shaking resumed; it was as if the floor was alive. I was almost there, between the bed and the door, between life and death, Almost!

The door was within reach, the trembling increased. I left a trail of dark red streaks on the cement floor.

There was a loud shrieking noise as if the door was being torn apart, the sound of twisting and tearing wood. Louder and louder it grew.

I closed my eyes waiting for whatever was to come. My heart was racing.

Thud!

The door blew open, throwing upon me contorted pieces of wood and metal. The doorknob flew into the room and rolled in a corner.

I looked up. There was a silhouette of a man.

“Get out, now. Quick! Earthquake!”