A Scary Night Alone

 

By Lara 

This experience horrified me as a 17-year-old back then. My name is Chris Stevens, and when this incident happened, I was still living with my parents. My parents were gone for two weeks, and because their rooms featured a large bed and a television, I opted to stay in their room for the duration. I was lying on their bed, relaxing watching television and feeling a little sleepy, I realized it was getting late. Remember that our neighborhood has a history of criminal behavior. So, my parents kept an alarm system and a revolver under the cabinet next to the bed for extra precaution, and I felt extremely safe. I was about to go to sleep when I noticed a strange noise coming from the window nearby to the front entrance. The sound was steady, repetitive tapping, like a pianist playing a melody on the windowpane. Although the blinds were drawn, the dim glimmer of the streetlights outside created spooky shadows over the room. My heart began to race, and I broke out in cold sweat. The tapping became louder and more relentless, and it was soon joined by a low, disturbing mumble.

The noise was a soft, rhythmic tapping, like the delicate fingers of a pianist playing a haunting melody on the windowpane. The curtains were drawn, but the faint glow of the streetlights outside cast eerie shadows that danced across the room. My heart began to race, and a cold sweat formed on my brow. The tapping grew louder, more insistent, and was soon accompanied by a low, guttural whisper.

 

"Chris... Chris..."

 

The voice was neither male nor female, but something in between, dripping with malevolence. I reached under the cabinet, my fingers brushing against the cold metal of the revolver. The weight of it in my hand was both reassuring and terrifying. I mustered the courage to approach the window, revolver at the ready.

Drawing the curtains back slowly, I was met with the sight of a horrifying face pressed against the glass. It was not human. Its eyes were large, black orbs, devoid of emotion, and its skin was a sickly pale shade, stretched taut over sharp, bulging out of its body bones. Its lips, thin and blue, curled into a evil smile, revealing rows of crooked, yellow teeth.

I stumbled back, my heart pounding in my chest. The creature began to scratch at the window, its nails leaving deep grooves in the glass. The alarm system, sensing the disturbance, blared to life, filling the room with its shrill warning. The creature recoiled, its eyes narrowing with rage.

Summoning every ounce of courage I had, I aimed the revolver at the creature and fired. The bullet shattered the window, and the creature let out an unearthly scream, retreating into the shadows. I quickly bolted towards the window and retreated to the safety of the bed, clutching the revolver close to my chest.

The next morning, I found no trace of the being from last night, save for the shattered window and the deep grooves it had left behind. The police were baffled, attributing the incident to a possible burglar scared off by the alarm. But I knew better.

For weeks after, I couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. Every shadow, every rustle of leaves, sent shivers down my spine. I never slept in my parents' room again, and the memory of that night haunted my dreams for years till now.

The neighborhood's history of criminal activity was one thing, but the fear and terror I felt that night was of a different kind altogether. It was a reminder that there are things out there, lurking in the shadows, far more horrifying than any being could ever be.