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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2204467
Rated: E · Short Story · Thriller/Suspense · #2204467
As you do your morning routine you listen to the news. Something isn't right...
Things That Go Bump in the Night
By: K.M.Baker



Do you ever wonder why you're afraid of the things that go bump in the dark? Have you ever thought of what they could be? Are they dangerous? Is it something hiding under your bed, waiting to tear off any limb that might hang over the edge? Or maybe it's the creature in your closet, waiting for you to turn away from the door, so it can strike? Or even the monster hiding just outside the window, waiting for the perfect moment to crawl in and onto the ceiling, so that it may drop down on you and devour you in seconds? Or perhaps they are none of these things. Maybe it's really something completely harmless. Maybe it's you, just afraid of your own shadow.

Think about it. You hear bumps. You hear thumps. You hear pounding. Perhaps you're simply afraid of your heart, because you know what comes next. You feel it growing inside you. Its claws are ripping at your intestines, wanting desperately to escape. To overpower you. To control you. But you can't let that happen. You can't. You know what happens next though. It always happens next.

You shift under your large comforter, a cold sweat on your back, soaking into your mattress and sheets. Your hands begin to shake, and you feel numb. You feel sick to your stomach, and your large brown eyes roll back in your head. Everything goes black.

The following morning, you wake up, back in the comfort of your own bed. You feel anxious and a bit dizzy, but you don't know why. Trying to push the feeling away, you pull back the covers, throw your legs over the edge of the bed, and slip on your favorite pair of slippers. You then go to your bedroom door, turn the doorknob, and let it slowly creak open. You go to your kitchen to make up a bowl of your favorite cereal, which just so happens to be sugary Coco Crisps, to eat while watching the news, like you do every morning. After you get your cereal and feed your bossy, buff-colored cat Mr. Jingles, you sit on your old brown couch, that you found along the road somewhere, and flick on the television, hoping for a good signal on the old piece of junk given to you by your parents.

As you spoon your cereal from the green plastic bowl into your mouth, a news report comes on.
"Mr. Cole Jones, of Hagerstown, Maryland, was reported missing by his roommate early this morning. Mr. Jones had gone out for a few drinks, at the local bar, The Gray Dolphin, yesterday evening and failed to return home. His roommate said this was unusual behavior for Jones and reported him missing at 10 o'clock this morning. Mr. Jones is a 28-year-old Caucasian man, with short blonde hair, and green eyes, is 5' 10'', and weighs about 226 pounds. The police are continuing to search for Mr. Jones and any additional information that anyone may have would be greatly appreciated to assist in the search."

You look down at your bowl of cereal, then back at the television set. You don't remember seeing that man before, but you have a gut feeling that you had. Oh well, he's not your problem. All you could do was keep an eye out for a man that matched the description. So you quickly finish your cereal, put your dishes in the sink, and head to the basement to get a gallon of water to make your morning cup of coffee in your beloved Keurig.

You flick on the light at the top of the stairs and a little, single bulb light turns on in the room below. Gripping the rail, you begin your decent into the musty basement. As you reach the bottom of the steps, you feel something wet and sticky on the end of the rail.

You hold your fingers up to the light and see they have been tinted a dark shade of red. Suddenly, an image flashes into your mind. It's you, standing outside a bar. Why? You haven't gone to a bar in years. Curious, you look around the illuminated section of the basement, trying to find the source of the substance. Your eyes land on a spot next to the shelf closest to the foot of the stairs. More red. So, you grab a flashlight on a nearby shelf and click it on, venturing deeper into the dark basement, leaving the small area lit by the hanging bulb, following the trail of red.

As you follow the trail, images from the previous night flash into your mind. You were at the bar. Maybe that's why you were dizzy this morning. What were you doing there? Maybe you couldn't sleep, so you went there for a few drinks. Did you get into a fight? No, no. There was no fight, at least that you were in, and you had no signs of injury when you got out of bed. So where could this have come from?

As you reach the gray stones that make up the back wall of the basement, you see the trail turns to the left and goes even further into the darkness. Your morbid curiosity is intrigued, so you continue to follow it. You had to find out what was going on. Your brain flips back to memories of last night. Bar. Blood. The missing guy, Jones. What else? There had to be something else.

You turn the corner, shining your light in front of you and that's when you see it, slumped against the cold stone. Blonde hair. Green eyes.
Slowly, a smile creeps onto your face. Now you remember where you've seen him. "Hello Jonesy."


© Copyright 2019 K.M.Baker (horrorqueen786 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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