SugarCube's Insomniac Asylum

I haven't written any fiction lately, but here is a flash fiction story, the whole thing, which I wrote a few months ago.



The wall was yellow even in the dark of night. It had been a beautiful, versatile shade of beige, but time had lightened that. The color was not what was bothering me, though. What was making the butterflies fly around my stomach was the sound that was coming from behind the wall, or in it, I guess.

My feet felt chilled as I walked across the living room floor. The scratching had brought me out of my warm bed, and had me sitting and staring at the wall and listening. The scratching had come from the wall against which the T.V. stood. This was also the common wall with the next door apartment, but the sound was definitely not coming from there. I reached over the T.V. and put my hand on the wall. Why was is warm? It was February. The scratching got louder and faster when my hand touched the wall, and I pulled back suddenly. The sound lessened.

A warmth coursed through my body as I stood touching the wall. A voice slithered through my brain.

"Let Me Out!"

My body flew across the room and I landed on the hardwood floor. Before I could assess if damage was done, I rolled across the floor and ended up back by the T.V.

That voice burst through me again, "Let Me Out!"

I jumped up and realized that I was unhurt, but this whatever -it-was, might change that for me and my fluffy fur ball.
I grabbed my cat and ran for the door.

For now, whoever had that voice would be staying right where they were. It was me that was leaving.