The Sound

She lay there listening to the sound as she had every other night for as long as she could remember. Then again, what else was there to remember? It was hard for her to truly describe the sound, for in the dark her mind conjured all sorts of strange imagery. A body being clumsily dragged away. Dull claws grinding across the rough surface of the floor. She honestly couldn’t even say if it was moving closer to her or further away. Clearly it was moving somewhere. Everything moved somewhere. Didn’t it? The thought of it perpetually frozen in its motion, forever making that sound but no progress, felt even more terrifying than the prospect of some horror creeping ever closer. Because if it wasn’t moving it meant it was staying. Surely, she could detect the sound growing slightly fainter. Or was it becoming ever clearer? It had to be.

She stared into the dark, and listened to the sound, because that was what the dark was for. The dark made us better listeners. The sound proved that.

See how she could detect that hidden cadence of what may possibly be the sound of a dead limb slowly falling to the ground. The repetitive clicking of bone to bone, or so it sounded.

The darkness let you hear the sound as the sound should be heard. That is without the unnecessary visual that light would only distract you from. No, the sound needed to be heard like this. As pure noise. Vibrations rattling the very molecules around her as it called out in the ever-present movement. Moving closer. Or was that farther away?

Is it more than one?

That was the beauty of the sound. There was so much to discover in it. So many layers to unravel.

The clicking

The thumping

The ting of something rattling

A soft scrape

The void where a hush falls so briefly you almost would miss it if you weren’t listening ever intently. A hush that grabs you in an earnest attempt to pull you into the void between the clicks and the ticks and the tocks and the stuttering sound.

But the hush cannot take you for the sound is there. The sound hears you. It hears the quiet rasp of your breath. As you barely dare to inhale, and exhale so strangled you think you may choke, but it doesn’t matter. Because the sound is there.

It is there

You can hear it

She can hear it

Or is it I that can hear it?

I hear it.

I hear the sound.

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