Incessant.
That’s the best way I can describe the sound of my grandma’s clock, ticking away mockingly in the living room as I tried to force myself to sleep. Obviously, sleep would not come as long as this atrocity persisted, however I was not too keen on leaving the safety of the guest bedroom to find some solution. You see, my grandmother’s home was not overly inviting in the daytime to begin with, boasting long hallways with creepy paintings that you could’ve sworn had eyes that followed you. As I’m sure you can imagine, this eerie atmosphere was only bolstered in the nighttime, the glow of the moon through the blinds casting towering, ominous shadows that fill the mind with images of malevolent creatures. The most plausible reality was that the only threat I faced was waking up my grandmother (who can be quite scary in her own right), but in my mind a myriad of starving eldritch abominations awaited me to stumble unwittingly into their jaws.
By the standards of most, 17 is far too old to harbor such fears of the dark. However, a combination of my interest in all things horror and an extremely active imagination left me quite spooked by the dark even late into my teenage years. This, coupled with the fact I was already comfortable in bed, made it very difficult to force myself to go put a stop to the ticking of the clock. However, as minutes had already turned to hours, I finally came to terms with the fact that the only way I was going to get any rest was to do something about that clock.
Cautiously, I slipped out of bed, tiptoeing to the door. Silently opening it, I peeked in the hallway, only half expecting to be met with the sight of a grisly beast. Instead, only the long empty hallway greeted me. I crept through the hallway as silently as possible, hearing the light snores of my grandmother as I stepped past her room. I tried not to glance at the paintings, as that would serve only to increase my already high levels of anxiety. Visions of something out of a horror novel stalking me from the shadows flew about in my mind. Slowly but surely, I reached the end of the hallway, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. Taking a moment to silently applaud myself for not awaking my grandmother and suffering the consequences, I then turned the corridor, approaching the living room. As I walked closer, my relief turned to confusion, as I could clearly see the clock in all its glory with the aid of the moonlight. However, the hand was not moving. I stared, perplexed, as that meant this couldn’t have been the source of the noise. Then what exactly had I been hearing for the whole night?
Tap, tap, tap.
I froze. Fear took its icy hold on me, as I realized that the sound I had been hearing was not a ticking at all, but rather a tapping.
A tapping which was coming from the living room window.
The sound had turned from rhythmic and soft, to intentional and demanding, as if someone- or something- wanted my attention Almost frozen in fear by this point, I somehow managed to turn my head as to avert my gaze towards the living room window, dreading what I was going to find.
The blinds were open, allowing a clear view of the outside. Standing at the window was what I can best describe as what evil incarnate would look like. It was tall, tall enough that it was hunched down to peer into the window, and its arms were long enough that its hands fell past its knees. A pale visage accented by huge, unblinking eyes, dotted with beady pupils that seemed to dilate when meeting my horrified gaze. A wide, toothy grin was plastered across its face, with pointed, yellowing teeth filling its maw. The smile only seemed to grow wider as we locked eyes. Although it had no ears, I knew it could hear my sharp breath, my exploding heart beats. Although it had no nose, I knew it could smell my fear, growing by the minute. Although it was only a few seconds, it felt like I was trapped for an eternity under the cold, malevolent gaze of something that only desired my suffering. The stillness was broken as it slowly raised a long, gaunt finger to the window. It paused for a moment, it’s sickening grin somehow growing wider once more, as if it were enjoying the torturous suspense I was enduring. Them, the silence was broken.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
With that, my trance was broken, and I regained control of my body. I darted back in the direction of the bedroom, moving faster than I had in my entire life. I bounded down the long hallways, the thought of the gazes of the paintings replaced entirely by the thought of the way that abomination looked at me. The whole time I expected to hear it come crashing through the window and begin its chase, and I was far too terrified to turn around and look behind me. I finally reached the bedroom, slamming and locking the door, unsure of what to do next. Panicked, my eyes darted around the room for a hiding spot. My eyes fell beneath my bed and, not seeing a better option given there was no closet, I dove underneath it. I clamped my hand over my mouth and waited. For a while, that’s all there was. Me, awaiting to see if that affront to nature would storm into the house, killing me, or worse. I couldn’t even warn my grandmother, lest it hear me moving. An image of her getting up to investigate the commotion and being met with that monstrosity crossed my mind, and I grew nauseous. She was likely safer without me bringing its attention to her anyway. As the minutes passed, I was brought no relief, as somehow I knew it was still out there, still enjoying the hunt. Why had it not entered the house already? What was it waiting on? It wasn’t as if it couldn’t get in if it wanted.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
It came from the bedroom window. My breath caught in my throat as the world came crashing down around me. Tears were streaming down my face as I silently sobbed, hoping for this nightmare to end, but it had just begun. For hours on end, that agonizing tapping continued, as if it were taunting me. Somehow, I knew it knew where I was, and the fact that it hadn’t killed me already terrified me even more. I had no idea what it wanted to do, but it was intelligent, and that was far scarier than anything about its appearance. It wanted to torture me. It wanted me to know how helpless I was, how far removed I was from the help of anyone. Had I locked the window? I thought so, but figured it didn’t matter. It’s not like something like that needed an invitation to enter. At any moment, it could break through that window, and then I would be trapped with the thing. That moment kept playing over and over again in my mind, as I waited on my inevitable and agonizing demise.
At some point, fear and exhaustion must have overtaken me, because I awoke with a start at the sound of my grandmother yelling through the door to tell me breakfast was ready. I slowly moved from my hiding spot, carefully examining the space around me. Only the emptiness of the room greeted me. Had I really survived that? Had it all been a hallucination of some sort? I trudged mindlessly into the kitchen, not caring at all when my grandmother commented on how tired I looked. I had to have hallucinated that, right? It couldn’t have been real. So I asked my grandmother the question that would eliminate that hopeful conclusion. “Grandma, can’t you turn the clock off? It kept me up all night.” She turned, giving me a confused look, and said, “Honey, that clock hasn’t worked in years.”
There’s a reason we harbor a primal fear of the dark. A reason every bump in the night causes your hair to stand on end. If you learn anything at all from my experience, let it be this; if you hear something go bump in the night, let it be.
You never know what’s lurking in the shadows.