Night Sounds
I awoke with a start that night, feeling like I had only just managed to drift off. But according to the clock on my night stand I had been out for a few hours. I wondered as anyone would what had awakened me. Then I heard it. A dull thumping sound from the dark. It almost sounded like a heavy footstep on a carpeted floor.
As you would imagine, I was curious about the noise, but not afraid. I assumed it was the house settling. Or an animal under the house. Hell, it could have been someone shuting a car door outside, my neighbors were a late night bunch. Something along those lines anyway.
But then it came again. Whump! A sound I almost felt in my bones. The sound was definitelly coming from in my house. I knew I had to investigate this midnight dusturbance, despite my sudden dread. I had never faced an intruder before, and my phone was on my kitchen counter.
In my bare feet I crept down the hall, like a burgler myself. I paused at each closed door to listen, but all was quiet now. I had begun to think I had been half-asleep and dreaming the noise, when it came again.
Whump!
It sounded vaguely familiar in the back of my mind, and I was sure i had heard it before somewhere. But I couldn't place the sound, and I was too nervous to think about it then.
The sound had originated from my kitchen, and as I approached it I saw a strange. sickly pale light seeping under the door crack, and a strange shadow shifting about. I heard new sounds now, the clinking on glass against glass, bringing to mind stories about organ thieves. I know that's weird, but when you're scared your mind goes to weird places.
The light winked out suddenly with another of those whumping sounds, and my heart skipped a few beats in a row.
The light slowly returned, and I knew I couldn't lurk outside my own kitchen all night. I had to know who was in my kitchen, and what they were doing. I slowly eased open the door, and gasped audibly at the sight I was greeted with.
A hideous, hulking form was hunched over my kitchen counter. It's fur was was missing in patches, it's skin was scabby and raw looking. In places it had running sores. It's spine protruded from it's back like a line of twisted knobs. It's head looked like a rotted pigs head.
It turned to face me, bathed in the sick light I now recognized as my fridge light, and gave me a far better look at it than I wanted. It's gnarly snout cracked open, and it said something in a phlegmy, gutteral voice I will never foget.
"Do you want a sandwich?"
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