It's the rumpelstiltskin

and whatchamacallits,

the waz'dats and a

thumping of near

heart attack ...

it's the Heir,

of childhood

conscience

rising...

that I've gone

done something,

Wronged...

maybe took too long

or too much

and now...

Pay back

calls...!!

by courier...

...at twilight...

Bump, bump, bump...

01.08.2024

Things that go bump in the Night challenge @dctezcan

Bump, thud and rumble

The melon runners take a tumble

Like a bullet from a gun

Up and down the stairs they run

Leaping high to catch a bug

Scrunching up the area rug

They awaken when their master calls it a night

After they've lazed all day in sun's light

Yet who can be the master

To agents of disaster?

Creatures designed to rule and roam

And saunter about a home

Creatures unnatural in their construction

Masters of chaos and destruction

Committing acts that physics should not allow

For one that weighs eight pounds and says "meow"

I could smell its rancid breath as it permeated the humid air in my bedroom closet. It was scratching and sniffing, tasting the molecules for my scent. Its heavy footsteps thumped around outside of the door.

”Please, no!” I whispered, closing my eyes.

I heard it coming closer, still searching for its prey, me. I squeezed myself farther into the back of my closet, trying to melt into the darkness around me. I was clutching my favorite childhood toy to my chest. I had found it on the floor when I had scrambled into my closet, trying to hide from the horror that awaited me outside. The tattered teddy bear provided small comfort from the terror that hunted me.

THUMP.

Silence.

THUMP. THUMP.

A steady thumping sound traveled across the walls of my bedroom. It came closer and closer, growing louder and louder. My heart was beating so hard against my sternum I thought that it might break through my chest.

THUMP.

The thumping stopped abruptly, and a deafening silence ensued. I cautiously looked up at the door of my closet, expecting the inevitable crashing of the door being torn off of its hinges, screams piercing the dark, and vile laughter, but there was nothing.

THUMP. THUMP.

The thumping resumed, growing ever closer until my closet door was rattling under every blow. I stifled a scream as a giant claw wrapped around the edge of my door. A screechy creaking sound emanated from the hinges of the door.

“Anybody home?” asked a deep, raspy voice. “Don’t be shy! I just want to play!”

The fist of fear gripped my heart and squeezed it until it stopped.

CRASH!!!

The door flew off of its hinges, revealing a ghastly sight. A reptilian creature rose to its full height, stretching four scaly wings, and flexing rippling muscles covered in sharp scales that wildly pierced the darkness at scattered angles. Bioluminescent light cast a pale blue glow over everything.

“What do you want?” I whispered hoarsely.

”You.” It rumbled.

”Why?” I trembled.

”Because, child! You are my greatest trophy! A human, especially a young one such as yourself, is quite a delicacy where I come from.”

”No!” I tried to scream, but it got caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat as the creature dragged me off into the darkness.

A pitter-patter of little feet.

A gentle sound. It roused a smile to my lips as I was lulled, swallowed under waves of sleep.

The velvety scrape of a cat licking its paws in sandpaper swathes. I smiled.

Ripping of claws along the closet door. I glared blearily about the room, eyes landing with relief on the lines of a pampered pooch sprawling on the floor near the door. I grumbled displeasure, flopping back beneath blankets into the heaviness of REM sleep.

It woke me again at dawn. I greeted the day, glaring at the sunrise. Even many a cauldron of magic bean juice could not slake the thirst of my grumpiness. It persisted until that evening, when the sounds of a farmhouse at night returned, and I was lulled once more, at peace with the quiet rustlings. I'd like for my husband to nestle a blanket around my shoulders and brush a soft kiss upon my cheek as I slept before the banked embers of the woodstove. The thought dragged me further toward sleep.

But the scream had me sat up, ramrod in spine, ears pricked to sounds of struggle echoing down the hallway from the open garage door.

My husband, a man of formidable size and strength, was cursing and screaming, "NO! Oh God, NO!" Sounds of battle and Thumping, followed by, "GET OUT. GO and don't ever come back! OH MY GOD."

I entered the room, primed with a kitchen knife, ready to fight for our lives, but was shocked to discover my husband leaning against the wall, stricken, pale, but alone. "...What...?" I trailed off.

He gulped and raked his fingers through his hair, giving himself a shake, as if he could rid himself of some horror, "It was....a...rat."

I stared and scoffed, "A...rat?"

He took me by the shoulders, "No. Listen to me. It was a huuge rat. It had to be the size of our dog..." He looked about, trying to confirm the creature was indeed gone before continuing, "Honey, I've hunted all my life and I'm a farmer to boot. I'm not squeamish about such a thing, but I tell you, this was no normal rat. It was all wrong. It was so huge..." He shivered and glanced around once more before pulling me inside and locking the garage door firmly behind us.

When I went to return the knife, he stilled my hand, "No," he said, "Keep it by the bed tonight. You may well need it to fend off that creature." I chuckled, following him upstairs, crawling under the blankets in sweet relief. Rest, at last.

And the house began to stir.

A pitter-patter of little feet.

My eyes flew open.

Little feet... of unnaturally large rats...scurrying along the joists in our attic.

The velvety sound of tails along the ceilings.

The gnawing of overgrown teeth.

A grating sound of claws, scratching at my closet door.

The sounds of a farmhouse at night provide reprieve for me no more.

Things that go bump in the night include my toe, as I stumble in the dark; my nose as I misjudge a wall's distance; my cat who stands in my way; my scruples as I jockey for position; my druthers as I pine for what could have been; my pride as I travel the dark alone; and my tears that hit the ground, unanswered.

Alone in the secluded cabin, Sarah lay sound asleep until the rustling leaves stirred her awake. The wind howled outside, trying to hide the sound of unknown footsteps pacing outside. Fear entered her heart. At first she hesitated, then peeked through the frosted window. The cabin’s outside light created shadows that concealed the figure in the whirling snow. A silhouette appeared. Was it a mysterious wanderer, a mythical Bigfoot, or a mere woodland creature? With pounding heartbeats, she wrapped herself tighter in her blanket, unable to move because of the mystery that lingered outside.

There's nothing but an echo, waking you from hazy dreams. It's almost a memory, one you keep reliving. Over and over, just like the sound itself. Rhythmic and low. A warning.

The sound only ringing out in the dead of the night. When the shadows bleed together, suffocating you, making you feel all alone. A sound always forgotten by morning.

At first there was no fear but time has worn down your nerves, leading to nothing but poisonous dread. Its grown closer in the passing weeks. Days. Right outside your door it rings out, disrupting the silence of the night. No longer soft and lost on the wind. It's the thunder in the rushing raining, wanting to burst through. You feel the presence waiting beyond the door. Begging you to welcome it in. Even your own heartbeat can't drown out its pounding.

You cower below sweaty sheets, teeth clenched to hold back heavy breathing. The sound always stops. Leaving a resounding echo at the last knock. Sunlight finds its way in and you know the night is over. But still there is no escape, your limbs grow heavy, sleep pulling at your mind. You fight but can't help the flutter of your eyes. If you sleep you'll forget. The panic sets in all over again. There's nothing you can do. The curse strips away the memories of the night before. A haunting cycle you're forced to live. A fractured mourning that started the night they left.

I dream about the past, about my childhood home, or the house in Vermont. I am always acutely aware that I am reliving my childhood; the walls of these homes seem borderline fluid as I try to gauge how much longer I must exist within them. I touch the windows, but there is never anything to see out of them, as if I am being denied my own reflection. As if the act of remembering is a form of evaporating.

I am in a dollhouse, almost, I am a figurine, I am a figment of someone's imagination, perhaps Freud's or Nietzsche's. I dance around bigger issues like a ballerina hell-bent on winning a place in the Nutcracker Suite.

I dream with sticky fingers. I am that child that puts its fingers in the cake's frosting, leaving an indent in the pretty image without knowing its true consequences. I reach out for someone, but it's always in the abstract, there's no more time, it's over and like a Picasso painting, I am left in parts, Tetris squares that don't add up.

I dream in Dorothy's ruby red slippers, because if I tap them together three times, I can wake up and not remember having tried so hard to escape my own mind.

I dream of the future. I dream that she is giving birth, and that I am there, and every time, it is a baby girl. I dream that everything is going horribly wrong and I am at the center of it all, screaming into a microphone that has not been tuned and is deafening everyone.

I dream about flutes made of meat, rotten figs falling from trees. I dream and then I do not. I dream about the past, and the future, and decide upon waking up to count my breathing, because I am usually hyperventilating. I input some important information incorrectly, forgot to file my taxes. It's always the same. It's always about a mistake.

I dream and then I wake up. If I reach out, I can touch my childhood home, but it is soft, or made of glass, and not at all what I expected, and then I wake up, confused that my brain could somehow make my memory of it even more convoluted than if I had just talked to my therapist about it.

I see shadows on the walls

I hear voices down the halls

I hear everything And then-

Am I the monster to my friends?

I scream and yell and I throw things

I want to change my very being-

who is this monster that I use to know?

Not something else I want to show-

I Don’t try or mean to be

something scary, that all can see

I try my best, now every day

To push the voices, and monster away

For Now I pray that all goes away

The monster and all of my shame-

I want to be a better beast-

Better then the monster I was at hand

so maybe one day I’ll roam free

not scaring the friends I want to see

now this is all a prayer I pray-

to release the monster every day

Bump!

I awoke with a start, and sat up in my bed, startled. Something had gone bump.

Bump!

There it was again! Perhaps it was a burglar downstairs?

Bump!

Or maybe it was the neighbor's cat knocking over a trash can?

Bump!

Maybe a racoon on the roof?

Bump!

Could it be a truck hitting a speed bump on the road in front of my house?

Bump!

Maybe it was hailing golf balls?

Bump!

Perhaps the other neighbor's goat had escaped and was butting at my door?

Bump!

I hadn't felt felt any shaking, so I was pretty sure it wasn't an earthquake....

Bump!

What if I'd been magically transported back in time, and a medieval army was firing catapults at my house? Dare I look out the window?

Bump!

Maybe my house had been caught up in a twister, just like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz? Could it be the wind battering at my house as it was spun in wild circles?

Bump!

Perhaps this was some weird phenomenon, never before encountered. Maybe my universe was playing dodge'ems with the multiverse?!

Bump!

Wait, maybe it wasn't a bump, maybe it was a...

Thump!

Yes, it was a...

Thump!

It was my own frightened heart, beating frantically.

Thump!

Whatever had woken me up, I was just keeping myself awake now.

Thump!

I began to calm down. I got out of bed and went downstairs to get a drink.

Thump!

I was feeling less frightened now that I knew what had been going bump.

Thump!

I went back upstairs and got into bed. As I rolled over and closed my eyes, something downstairs went...

Bump!

Bump!

BUMP!!