I was at home alone on that moonless night. The dark outside swallowed all the shapes of trees I knew were there and the fence just beyond. The black seemed to have volume, a thickness, as if it might be hard to breath and it was then I heard the brushing sound ........swish...swish....then a pause. Then another...swish. Was it coming from the front porch? I think so....swish...swish. Then another sound, like a jangling of chains. A cruel sound, murderous realism giving contradiction to the swishing. The soft sound, then hard as I backed away from the door.
Then nothing. No sound at all as if even the wind was swallowed by the dark. The porch lamp was on and burning all its lumens but only casting shadows on a porch eaten alive by the blackness and the menacing silence. Then there was a knock.
I was disassociated when I saw my hand reach for the door knob as if under spell contrary to my very core of survival and the door opened as if working its way through black oil in its slowness and determination. Then opened wide and stopping suddenly as if held by an angry force.
At the threshold was the thing. The opening segment of all nightmares. The death of all happiness, the antonym off carefree joy.
That's right.................it was Vivian.....
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PopClick - you need to come get this thing.