Sounds in the Night, Fear in his Heart

There it was again. That scratching, crackling sound in the darkness just outside the window. It definitely wasn't a branch this time; Dan had cut that back yesterday.

Tommy lay still in the dark warmth of his bed, his small hands gripping the duvet under his nose as his eyes fixed on the blank ceiling. He knew that willing the sound to stop would not work but there was little else that he could do now.

He wanted to close his eyes, he so desperately wanted to sleep, but Tommy knew that the noises would not go away. They had been there every night for two weeks: a relentless scraping on the glass, a snapping like branches and a rustle that sounded as if it could be caused by either clothes or fur. The sounds were urgent in there frequency, intentional in there persistence. Tommy knew with a child’s intuition that it was nothing so simple or logical as a tree branch that caused it.

No one believed him though. He’d tried to tell himself that what Mommy said was true: that he had an overactive imagination. She said that an overactive imagination could help Tommy make money one day and making money, Tommy knew, was a very important thing for grownups. Mommy said that when Tommy was afraid of a noise or shadow he should confront his fears. He wanted to do this; he wanted to confront his fears so that when he grew up his overactive imagination could help him make money. That would make Mommy proud.

The problem was that Tommy did not believe that the noises outside the window had a reasonable explanation. Dan might be able to help him but he was still cross with Tommy and so Tommy didn’t think that Dan would help him. He could hear Dan in the lounge now, playing his Playstation with volume loud because Mommy wasn’t home. She left the two brothers to fend for themselves for a few hours while she was out for dinner.

Tommy tried to ignore the noises by rolling over and pulling the blankets up past his ears. Dan was angry with him because Mom had made Dan spend yesterday afternoon cutting tree branches. She’d had enough of Tommy waking her up in the dead of night because he was scared of those noises. Tommy felt bad but he didn’t know how to make her understand that there really was something to be afraid of. Maybe if he knew what it was she would believe him, but part of him doubted that. He knew tree branches weren’t the problem though.

Tommy wondered if maybe Dan heard the noises as well. Dan hadn’t said anything but this morning Tommy knew for sure that Dan was hearing something at night. He could see a reflection of his own inner turmoil in his brother: eyes sunk into the dark blue smudges of sleepless nights, constant fidgeting and glances over his shoulder at the slightest noise. There was little that either of them could do to ignore it.

Tommy had needed to know that he was not alone and so this morning he had built up sufficient courage to confront his older brother during breakfast.

“Dan?”

“Umf.” A noncommittal grunt from Dan signaled to Tommy that Dan was in no mood for conversation. But Tommy had to know.

“Dan…”

“What?” The short, sharp reply made Tommy want to stop. There was an edge to Dan’s voice that cut through Tommy’s courage, but he kept on with his plan. He wanted an ally in fear but didn’t want to alienate Dan. Tommy decided to risk it all and bear the brunt of the humiliation if he was wrong.

“You hear it too, don’t you?”

Dan hesitated for a moment and in that short second, Tommy saw the sparkle of fear in Dan’s eyes. He realized then that his brother was only a child, that he too had fears, so he pressed on.

“The noises last night, you heard them? Outside the window?”

As quickly as Tommy had gained understanding, Dan had reclaimed his usual brash composure.

“Jeez Tommy, Are you still carrying on about? I cut the branches, there’re no noises.”

“But you heard it?”

“I didn’t hear nothing then, and all I hear now is a scaredy-cat whining.”

Tommy did not understand. “Then why do you look so tired? You’re not sleeping. Like me.”

Dan dropped his spoon into the cereal bowl, sending flecks of milk across the table. He pointed a finger at Tommy, and Tommy saw the anger in his eyes.

“I look tired because I have to spend my time looking after you. You look tired because you’re a scaredy-cat. You think there’s monsters everywhere.”

Tommy felt his eyes burn as he forced back the tears. He wanted to show Dan that he was brave, that they could sort this out together, but Tommy couldn’t understand what was wrong.

Dan’s face distorted into a forced sneer. “Chicken shit.”

It was then that Tommy’s courage broke and he had fled the kitchen in a flurry of tears and hurt.

But that was this morning and Tommy had tried to stay out Dan’s way since then. He did not know if he was more scared of the rattles and scrapes, the whispers and crackles, or of the way Dan was acting. Tommy found his fears were more easily considered in daylight but now, in the dark of night, those fears swelled around his heart and chilled the pit of his stomach.

Again the ticking, scratching, whispering noise. Tommy flung back the covers and swung his legs over the edge and onto the floor in one swift movement. He stood up and managed one step toward the wondow before his bravado wavered. He had talked himself into this but now all his beliefs came rushing back. That singular fear flooded his mind with an icy conviction that stopped him in mid step. It was here. It was right outside his window and he would finally get a chance to confront this fear.

Did he really want to?

No. Tommy turned and ran from his room, he shot down the stairs, barely touching the steps, and hurtled into the lounge. Dan jumped as he saw Tommy hurl himself into the room with his eyes drawn wide in his pale face.

“No, Tommy. There’s nothing there.” Tommy could sense disbelief in Dan’s voice.

“Yes,” Tommy’s breath hitched and heaved in his chest. “There is! I heard it!”

Dan was scared by Tommy’s high-pitched screams, but he too was tired of these fears.

“No, there isn’t. Go back to bed and get some sleep.”

“But Da–“

“I said go back to bed!”

Tommy’s tears erupted in a flood of suffering and ignorance. He ran back up the stairs and buried himself under the covers of his bed. Why was Dan being like that? Why was he being so angry? Tommy hadn’t done anything wrong and Dan was shouting at him. His young mind couldn’t make sense of any of it.

Tommy buried himself deeper in the blankets, his muffled sobs blocking out any sounds beyond his bubble of safety. He thought his heart would explode out his chest with terror as he felt the covers pulled back.

“Tommy?” Dan’s voice wavered with uncertainty. “Hey buddy, listen, I’m sorry I shouted at you.”

Tommy wiped the tears from his eyes. He looked at Dan’s face but felt so confused by his brother who was screaming at him one moment then worrying about him the next.

“C’mon Tommy, it’s nothing. I’ll go outside and check around to see what’s making those noises. I won’t see anything, but, you know, I’ll do it if you calm down, okay?”

Tommy looked his brother in the eyes and saw a number of emotions that he could not yet name. He felt his body relax and he fiercely hugged Dan around the neck. Dan took this as a sign of approval and he had moved out of the room and down the stairs before Tommy could say anything. The gravity of what Dan was about to do sent a rod of burning fear into Tommy’s stomach. He couldn’t let Dan go outside, it wasn’t right.

“Dan!” Tommy’s shout was answered with a click and a thud of the back door closing. Dan had gone outside and Tommy could hear the ticking, scraping noises start again.

Tommy forced himself to walk towards the window. Tentatively he drew back the curtain and peaked around it. With each inch that he saw nothing, Tommy moved a little quicker. He could see the tree, the bushes, and the edge of the patio. He scanned the garden again and saw nothing.

A hint of movement from the tree. That sickeningly familiar rustling sound, that hideously recurring scratching noise. Tommy wanted to scream out to Dan, to tell him to go back inside, but he felt his throat constrict.

The indistinct shape plopped to the ground. Tommy could see that Dan had heard it as Dan took another step towards the dark. Tommy tried to scream, to warn Dan, but all his body could manage was for his bladder to let go.

A shadow-like mass shot across the garden. It knocked Dan off his feet and his head hit the patio with a muffled crack. Tommy was unaware of his own squeal of fright. Before he could react the shape was back. There was a flash of white (claws? bones?) as the thing lingered over Dan’s legs. In a second it gripped Dan’s ankles and, from the window, Tommy could hear the scraping noise as it dragged Dan across the patio. In an instant his brother was gone. A scatter of leaves from a quivering bush the only sign that he had been there a second before.

Tommy’s tears burnt lines of terror down his face. He wished that he had been wrong. He wished that he had just been a scaredy-cat by himself and not involved his brother.

Tommy reached for the window latch, his hand wavered with fear before opening it. He turned from the open window towards his bed and dragged himself toward it, weary beyond his years, and curled up on top of the covers.

All that was left now was to wait by the open window.

To wait for the rustles and scrapes.

To wait…