Screaming In A Whisper


A five-year-old self, long blond hair, and bright blue eyes. Shy beyond measure. Innocent of the evil around me.

Walking up wooden basement stairs, nothing out of the ordinary except the purpose I’m down here. I don’t even give it a second thought.

As I ascend the steps, my foot gets caught up in the wooden plank. As if my foot has found a hole and slipped through. Struggling with great difficulty, I try to unpin my small foot. As I look at my foot, it becomes wedged in what looked like a cinder block. It is then I hear his voice. A monstrous and evil sound.

I pictured in my young mind an image of him, which frightens me to this day. He has sharp jagged teeth, long and matted black hair. His eyes glow with orange and red. His nose not even evident on his face. His fingers are long and sharp. Absolute terror grips my mind and body.

I continue to struggle with the stairs. The plank finally releases me, however, the entrapment of my feet on the steps continues. My legs are becoming weak, feeling as though full of concrete.

I can’t scream out for help. Fear paralyzes my throat and lungs. Tears well up in my eyes and streak down my cheeks. Too young mentally to handle any of this.

His voice becomes more like a guttural growl. And he’s making his way up the stairs. I can’t see his face yet, as he’s still wrapped in the shadows. But he is close enough that I can hear him breathing.

I continued to struggle but finally make it to the door. Wrenching at the knob meets me with resistance immediately…locked. My voice returns and I begin to scream, but the sound stops at my lips. It’s as if I’m screaming in a whisper.

I yank at the door, but it still doesn’t budge. I can feel his breath on my neck. Doing what all young children do…I cover my eyes with my hands. If I can’t see him…he isn’t there! But…he is there!

Feeling his hand touch and then grab my arm, my body clinches, as he jerks me back down into the shadows.

 

Sidenote: This is a recurrent dream I’ve had ever since I was a small child. It’s less frequent now than it has ever been, but it still wakes me wanting my mother!

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