I woke suddenly, a deep rumbling shaking the house.
“Not again,” I moaned, huddling in my blanket. This was the fourth time this week and evidently, once again, I was the only one who could feel it.
Barry slept beside me, his snores buried beneath the rumbling, creaking wood –snores that would prohibit me from going back to sleep once this cursed shaking stopped– and the dogs at the end of the bed were also fast asleep, undisturbed by the trembling tremors. It was only me. It was always me.
Shivering, I grabbed my glasses and placed them over my nose, grimacing at the smear my clumsy fingers had left on the glass. How had my fingers become so dirty? I had bathed before bedtime. Wobbling to my feet, I hurried to the door, swishing and swooshing with each tremble beneath my feet. How could my husband and dogs sleep through this?
A sudden flare of light flickered at the end of the hallway, wiggling and wavering like a sun-dancing firefly, almost in time with each tremor. Was it a firefly? It was too large. We had only just moved into this house and these strange encounters were increasing each night. Perhaps it was a ghost; perhaps the house was haunted; perhaps we would all die soon!
I swallowed, huddling back and away from the incandescant creature, its glow increasing with each second. The house was inherited from Barry’s father. His wealth was very great, and was derived chiefly from slave-trading and other questionable endeavours. Being family, we never questioned it, but now… living in his old house…
Another rumble, stronger than the last, sent me sprawling beneath the fiery ghost thing. It buzzed and hummed and zipped and zooped. Then all went black. And quiet. The buzzing disappeared. The trembles stopped. A door creaked behind me.
“Marie, what in the hells are you doin’ down here on the floor?”
It was Barry’s voice, but it wasn’t Barry; Rufus, our terrier, sidled up beside me. His tongue was wet and goopy as it lapped over my cheek and into my eye, leaving streaks of hot slobber quickling cooling over my face. I couldn’t respond –daren’t respond! Dogs don’t talk, couldn’t talk… and their eyes certainly didn’t glow! It was possessed. Whatever that floaty fiery glowing thing was, it was now controlling my dog, trying to cajole me with sweet Barry’s voice.
The horse whinnied outside, a frightful shriek that echoed out into the night and through the walls like the horrified scream of a woman under attack, intensifying so sharply I felt liquid drip from my ears and run down my neck in warm rivulets.
Rufus stared at me with those glowing eyes, the tiny silhouette of a black firefly creature dancing deep inside of them, and a pained moan fought up through my shortening breath.
That’s when I realised. It wasn’t a horse whinnying –we didn’t even own a horse!– it was my scream.
It’s the weekend! That means, it’s #weekendfreewrite time! 😀 The weekend freewrite consists of three prompts, the prompts have been bolded and italicised in my writing and can also be found on @mariannewest’s blog here (1), here (2), and here (3).
I begin the story with the first prompt, but each following segment I try to work the next prompts into the story itself instead of starting with them. With varying success. Haha!
Today’s #weekendfreewrite was brought to you by an aching head and desire to just sleep, but I hadn’t done a post in a few days so forced myself through it. I was bedridden for most of yesterday with a migraine, a fantastic way to celebrate Australia Day. 🙂 Listening to people having fun outside while you’re stuck in bed, inwardly shrieking, “Shut uppppp!!!!!” and trying to imagine a guided meditation man speaking to you, telling you to breathe deep and let your breath infiltrate your toes.
It only mildly worked and I was harassed by weird dreams all day and night.
Anyway, my header is a CC0 image courtesy of Pixabay.
Thank you for reading!! 🙂
Just a reminder that we’re looking for responses for possible March Madness Mad-Writers! 🙂 There are a couple of interested people, but more the merrier!!!