Image: The Witch
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Like a battering ram, my heart pummels my rib-cage as if it means to crack it. It alerts me of the unnatural and ominous presence I’m beginning to sense – whatever it is that just jerked me out of my sleep. In the silence, the sound of my breathing is like the bellow of a steam engine. It will only give me away; a siren to broadcast my apprehension to whatever is listening, to whatever stalks the night. I consciously take in every breath until only barely perceptible whistles escape.
Then I hear the patter of feet; the lightest of taps which I can only perceive because of my adrenaline heightened senses. Someone is coming to my door. At this hour? If my instincts don’t deceive me, it should be in the very early morning.
I twist my neck to look at the clock radio on my night stand. In the pitch black, it glares at me in neon red like it warns me – 1:23am. Who could be walking the dormitory corridors barefoot at this time of night, and in this cold? Continue reading “Man In A Dark Room – a Zim short story inspired by “true” events”