Car lights moved across the glass, refracting into the room and causing shadows to dance across the walls. Thunder rumbled as the sky was lit up once again in a flash of blue that did not belong to a car, lightning? Christopher sat with his back in a corner, breathing deeply. It was becoming increasingly hard for him to breathe as he pulled his knees closer into his chest. The nightmare had been a recurring one: clowns, smiles, guns, screams, and blood. He didn’t want to go to his parents. they didn’t know that he had watched the babysitter’s movie from the shadows of the staircase.
The house creaked. Old houses always made sounds. It was the way they breathed, his father told him. He didn’t like thinking that the house needed to breathe. The house wasn’t alive, or at least he hoped so (he’d seen a movie about a living house once). The house whispered out as if someone was walking through the halls. He knew that it was childish of him to even believe that someone was in his house. His parents had a security system, the best around. No one could break – there was the distinct sound of footsteps. The footsteps were heavy, much like his father’s before morning coffee. Christopher focused on the crack along the door frame, trying to decipher the shape of the changing shadow on the other side of the door. Car lights moved outside, causing the door to glow intensely. Then they bled, and shook, rattling and cascading lighting the world in fire. His entire world was shaking. The fans, the lights, his bed, his world, and he knew it was himself. HIs entire body was jittery as he tried to sit still, silent, hiding.
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