It was the sound that awoke Dustin from his slumber. The noise was barely above a whisper, but it was unfamiliar, one that was not part of the usual night sounds of the darkened flat. It was not the soft hiss of the refrigerator running through its cycle, nor the loud clack of the automatic kettle’s heating element as it finally cooled completely. It was neither the scratching of the rats in the ceiling spaces, or the popping of the corrugated sheets on the roof.
Was I snoring too loudly again and woke myself up? No, it wasn’t that. But I definitely heard something, or was the sound in my dream?
Dustin’s eyes were stretched open, vainly trying to penetrate the dense gloom. As his vision gradually adjusted, he cast his gaze over the built-in wardrobes along the left side of the bedroom before it slid across the curtained window facing his bed. He had been lying on his side, but he now turned onto his back to better inspect the rest of the room.
His eyes passed over the small chest of drawers along the right wall. Next to it was his narrow work desk on which was mounted his PC monitor. The CPU sat on top of the chest of drawers. As Dustin was about to move his glance away from the desk, he noticed something at the very periphery of his vision.
What the hell is that? What are those two red lights up in the corner by the ceiling?
Before he could answer his own question, he heard the sound again. This time it was distinct, and unexpectedly identifiable. It was the steely sniiiiiiiick of claws being unsheathed.
Instantly, Dustin’s heartbeat raced like an unbridled charger, pounding so loudly in his ears that the palpitations became deafening. His body broke out in a sticky sweat while his breathing emerged as short gasps. Then the two red dots moved down the wall. Slowly, inexorably, purposefully.
Dustin was spellbound by the leisurely way in which the dots made their way down to the top of the chest of drawers. Dustin strained to open his eyes even wider to allow more light to enter to improve his sight.
It was when he heard the sharp snick for the third time that his brain finally kicked in, propelling him out of his bed towards the light switch. The sudden glare of the light bulb revealed nothing except his familiar bedroom. No red eyes, no unwelcome presence. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Dustin stood at the side of his bed, his bare feet digging themselves into the thick orange rug they were standing on.
I imagined it. I must have. There’s nothing here. Dumbass, your mind is playing tricks on you!
With some relief but a great deal of trepidation, Dustin returned to his warm bed after having switched off the light. Just as he approached the borders of sleep, he was momentarily assailed by a nauseating, cloying stench of rotten eggs. For a terrifyingly clear moment, which lasted exactly five seconds, he knew the smell was indisputably that of sulphur. Then sleep dragged him under.
The next evening, Dustin was so engrossed in his monthly report for his manager that he lost all awareness of time. When he accidentally glanced at his laptop clock, he was shocked to see that it was already 11:45 PM. Having just completed his comments, he saved the document before switching off his laptop.
He was sitting in the kitchen area, at the kitchen counter, as he preferred working there instead of at his desk. He now stood up to stretch languorously, groaning in pleasure as his shoulder muscles creaked lightly. He placed his hands on his hips and bent back as far as he could go. He had been standing opposite the wall-mounted mirror and as he brought his head back forward, he happened to look into the looking glass. It was only very briefly, but he shouted aloud in horror before he spun around wildly.
He had caught sight of the dark outline of what appeared to be someone standing right behind him, practically on top of him. But there was nobody there.
He had switched most of the lights off except for the recessed ceiling light above the kitchen counter, thus most of the entire area was shadowy. Dustin nearly ran to the light switches next to the front door and flipped all of them on, brightly illuminating every inch of the kitchen and attached lounge.
What the hell was that? Did I imagine it because I’m so fatigued? Was it a trick of my mind that conjured up the shape? I think I’d better visit my doctor tomorrow to check myself out. This is not normal!
As he was deliberating with himself, Dustin scoured every inch of the room, even looking up at the sunken ceiling. He was shaking very slightly, his heartbeats sounding like timpani being played at high tempo. His palms were moist, his armpits felt sticky; his entire body felt electrified.
I’m sleeping with the light on all night. No way in hell am I spending any time in the dark tonight!
Dustin took a hot shower to wash off the perspiration of fear his body had broken out in. While he was cleaning himself, his senses were on high alert, attuned to the slightest sound that seemed out of place. Although the splashing water made so much noise that it effectively masked any other sound, Dustin’s ears were perked.
That’s why he was able to hear the soft footfalls of bare feet on tiles in the passage outside the bathroom.
He lived alone, therefore he always showered with the bathroom door wide open. The second he heard the footsteps, he turned off the water and turned around to look into the passage. He was in time to see a silhouette or shadow passing out of sight. The sound of footsteps abruptly ceased. Dustin held his breath like a swimmer floating just under the surface of a deep lake.
The desperate need for oxygen impelled Dustin to explosively exhale; he greedily gulped in fresh air to fill his starving lungs. Only then did he realise he was shivering as the droplets of water on his body had turned cold while he had been standing with baited breath. Swiftly, he finished his shower, toweled himself dry and warily entered his bedroom.
Nothing was out of place. No red eyes were staring at him from the ceiling corner. No unpleasant odours assaulted his nostrils. Then he noticed his bedding.
It bore an indentation in the middle of the mattress on the side closest to the door, as if somebody had sat on his bed just moments before.
For the next four nights, Dustin slept with every single light fixture on. He didn’t even dare switch off the bathroom or toilet lights. Because he prided himself on his rationality and scoffed at superstitions or primitive beliefs, he reasoned that there had to be a logical explanation for the strange occurrences. But he still kept all the lights on.
I’m sure it’s just my exhaustion that’s making me imagine these things. I’m sure I must have sat on the bed that night and just forgot about it. I’m sure the shape I saw standing behind me was my own reflection. I’m sure I didn’t really hear the footsteps of bare feet. That’s insane!
Dustin repeated the phrase “I’m sure” in an attempt to persuade himself that he was right: he was imagining things because he was overworked and needed to rest. He had decided against going to see his general practitioner for he reasoned there just was no need for it. All that was required for him to feel right as rain again was to relax and do some exercises. Putting action to thought, Dustin started rope skipping in the lounge, which is also where he performed a few sets of push-ups, ab crunches and jumping Jacks. Gradually, he got back into his routine, managing to complete his work as well as cook supper for the first time in a week.
On the fifth night, Dustin turned off the apartment’s lights with far less trepidation than before. He started with the kitchen lights, then the lounge lights, followed by the toilet and bathroom lights. He switched off the passage light before stepping into his bedroom. The darkness had already promptly claimed the rest of his apartment.
He undressed, turned back the bed covers and slipped in under the blankets, his skin relishing the cool touch of the crisp, ironed bed sheets. Snuggling deeper under the quilt, Dustin lay on his back as he felt sleep overcome him. Mere seconds later, he felt some huge pressure settle upon his chest, pushing down with all its might as if trying to drown him. Dustin struggled mightily to come awake, mumbling incoherently and moaning in distress.
He was incapable of opening his eyes, even though he was aware that he was struggling to breathe and talk. An immense shroud of malicious fear wrapped itself around him, tightening like the merciless coils of an anaconda intent upon killing its prey. Dustin’s level of panic soared, but he remained paralysed and unable to even say a word. He could faintly hear himself uttering parts of words, sounding like a person who has had a debilitating stroke. Time was treacle; everything moved as if in immense slow motion. Just as he was about to reach the crescendo of his terror, the weight pinning him to the mattress abruptly dissipated. With its disappearance, a loud grunt escaped Dustin’s suddenly working mouth.
“Uh!” he shouted before he jumped out of bed towards the light switch on the wall. He had no bedside lamps, but the thought fleetingly crossed his crazed mind that he should get two. Then he reached the wall switch. He clicked on the button, expecting the room to be instantly flooded with glorious light. The room remained crypt dark and deathly silent.
“Fucking load shedding!” he cursed aloud as the realization hit him.
Dustin never experienced the strange phenomena ever again.
Image: Joe Shields (www.unsplash.com)
