Molly watched all the nightly preparations with a sense of curiosity. The room had taken on a much darker feel, and she didn’t think it was entirely because of the recent nightfall. People moved around the room silent as little mice, touching everyone they passed. While for her it was all about avoiding physical contact, for them, it was all about feeling skin. She fought against judging them too quickly.
There was a whistle, like wind rushing too fast over sharp objects. She glanced at flute boy, and his eyes revealed her tense he was, there were lines on his face, not from laughter, but from stress. She had seen it too many times in her own mirror not to recognize it. The noise had not come from him this time. She noticed his flute lay discarded on the bed, and instead his fingers had balled around fabric of the bed.
Molly looked at the others gathered in their little huddles on the floor, and on the bed. Those with candles huddled tighter to the light, as if there was salvation in the light. A few women joined the men by the fire.
For the first time, silence seemed to rule these people. There was no laughter, not even from Red and the Brownies. She gazed at them curiously, wondering what it was that had changed. She sought out Red, whose face had been so expressive before, and found the girl curled in a small ball, with her head on the leg of Brownie One. Molly watched the men silently pass soup around.
She was surprised to note the drop in temperature. She felt it herself, in a shiver and tightening of nipples, but then noticed that others were gathering closer together as well. Molly accepted a bowl of soup, and waited patiently for a spoon to follow. She watched flute boy tip his bowl up- no utensils, she took the hint, and followed suit.
The whistling outside got louder, and louder, as if the entire world were screaming at the cottage. She heard a loud bang, like a door thrown open, and looked to the shutters. Not even a peep came from the silent room, though all eyes seemed to have followed hers. The shutters had held firm.
Molly finished her soup, and set the bowl down on the floor. It tilted and made a clatter against the wood. Panicked eyes turned as one to look at her. She started to apologize, and instead found flute boy’s hand over her mouth. Disgruntled that Sir. Naked would touch her, she pried his hand away, and felt a little chagrined when she saw the desperate shaking of his head, and the terror filling his eyes.
Outside the whistling began to slow, and the pitch dropped an octave. She thought this would ease the fears of those around her, but instead they tensed all the more. She heard another banging sound. It sounded angry, and it sounded closer still than the last one.
Fear the contagion of the century began to spread into the pit of her stomach making it feel sour. She wished she hadn’t eaten. Then she wouldn’t feel like vomiting now. The food was irritating her already weak stomach. She took a deep steadying breath, and made up her mind to put her fear aside.
Then the scariest sound of all came, - Silence. It was so loud it was screaming down at her, like a black hole. No one around her seemed to be breathing; there were no sobs of fear. The wind had stopped there was no whistle. There was just nothing, and in that nothing sound there was a more acute fear than any she had ever been exposed to.
Finally the silence was broken. A tap at the door, once, twice, and then a third time, successively louder each time. There was a break in the room, and the girl that had been fondly rubbing her boyfriend before stifled a sob. He slapped a hand over her mouth, and that sound reverberated through the room until another three knocks came to the door.
One of the young men near the door stood up, looking dazed, and he moved toward the door like a doe caught in headlights. His eyes were big as saucers, and he seemed in capable of controlling his movements. Someone grabbed him and pulled him back, forcing him from the door. He didn’t fight them, but seemed confused, and then suddenly returned to a state of terror.
Three more knocks sounded on the door, and then a screech ripped through the air. Everyone as one-raised hands to ears. It was the most horrible sound Molly had ever heard, and she followed suit. The sound was so loud and horrible, that she was certain it was a banshee of old. The scream stopped after a moment and it was replaced by another.
“NO!!!!!!! HELP ME!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!! LET ME IN!!!!!!!” A man’s voice shouted.
A woman standing near the fireplace jerked to attention, as did the others. Her body was moving toward the door like the devil himself had urged her on. She was pulled down and restrained forcibly by the others. Someone whispered “it’s too late/” Her body was racked with sobs, but she bit her own knuckle until she drew blood to contain them. Silence ruled again within the cottage, while outside the male’s yells became less and less distinct.
One final shrill scream was raised, and then the whistling sound rose again. Molly rubbed her arms, and closed her eyes against the thing of their nightmares. She wasn’t sure how she would know when things had returned to normal. Another silence fell after what seemed like hours.
The woman on the floor voiced her sobs.
There was a whistle, like wind rushing too fast over sharp objects. She glanced at flute boy, and his eyes revealed her tense he was, there were lines on his face, not from laughter, but from stress. She had seen it too many times in her own mirror not to recognize it. The noise had not come from him this time. She noticed his flute lay discarded on the bed, and instead his fingers had balled around fabric of the bed.
Molly looked at the others gathered in their little huddles on the floor, and on the bed. Those with candles huddled tighter to the light, as if there was salvation in the light. A few women joined the men by the fire.
For the first time, silence seemed to rule these people. There was no laughter, not even from Red and the Brownies. She gazed at them curiously, wondering what it was that had changed. She sought out Red, whose face had been so expressive before, and found the girl curled in a small ball, with her head on the leg of Brownie One. Molly watched the men silently pass soup around.
She was surprised to note the drop in temperature. She felt it herself, in a shiver and tightening of nipples, but then noticed that others were gathering closer together as well. Molly accepted a bowl of soup, and waited patiently for a spoon to follow. She watched flute boy tip his bowl up- no utensils, she took the hint, and followed suit.
The whistling outside got louder, and louder, as if the entire world were screaming at the cottage. She heard a loud bang, like a door thrown open, and looked to the shutters. Not even a peep came from the silent room, though all eyes seemed to have followed hers. The shutters had held firm.
Molly finished her soup, and set the bowl down on the floor. It tilted and made a clatter against the wood. Panicked eyes turned as one to look at her. She started to apologize, and instead found flute boy’s hand over her mouth. Disgruntled that Sir. Naked would touch her, she pried his hand away, and felt a little chagrined when she saw the desperate shaking of his head, and the terror filling his eyes.
Outside the whistling began to slow, and the pitch dropped an octave. She thought this would ease the fears of those around her, but instead they tensed all the more. She heard another banging sound. It sounded angry, and it sounded closer still than the last one.
Fear the contagion of the century began to spread into the pit of her stomach making it feel sour. She wished she hadn’t eaten. Then she wouldn’t feel like vomiting now. The food was irritating her already weak stomach. She took a deep steadying breath, and made up her mind to put her fear aside.
Then the scariest sound of all came, - Silence. It was so loud it was screaming down at her, like a black hole. No one around her seemed to be breathing; there were no sobs of fear. The wind had stopped there was no whistle. There was just nothing, and in that nothing sound there was a more acute fear than any she had ever been exposed to.
Finally the silence was broken. A tap at the door, once, twice, and then a third time, successively louder each time. There was a break in the room, and the girl that had been fondly rubbing her boyfriend before stifled a sob. He slapped a hand over her mouth, and that sound reverberated through the room until another three knocks came to the door.
One of the young men near the door stood up, looking dazed, and he moved toward the door like a doe caught in headlights. His eyes were big as saucers, and he seemed in capable of controlling his movements. Someone grabbed him and pulled him back, forcing him from the door. He didn’t fight them, but seemed confused, and then suddenly returned to a state of terror.
Three more knocks sounded on the door, and then a screech ripped through the air. Everyone as one-raised hands to ears. It was the most horrible sound Molly had ever heard, and she followed suit. The sound was so loud and horrible, that she was certain it was a banshee of old. The scream stopped after a moment and it was replaced by another.
“NO!!!!!!! HELP ME!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!! LET ME IN!!!!!!!” A man’s voice shouted.
A woman standing near the fireplace jerked to attention, as did the others. Her body was moving toward the door like the devil himself had urged her on. She was pulled down and restrained forcibly by the others. Someone whispered “it’s too late/” Her body was racked with sobs, but she bit her own knuckle until she drew blood to contain them. Silence ruled again within the cottage, while outside the male’s yells became less and less distinct.
One final shrill scream was raised, and then the whistling sound rose again. Molly rubbed her arms, and closed her eyes against the thing of their nightmares. She wasn’t sure how she would know when things had returned to normal. Another silence fell after what seemed like hours.
The woman on the floor voiced her sobs.
Choose:
- ID: 38456
- Nickname: visitor knocks
- Hits: 213
