« I HAVE HEARD THE TALE OF THE SOUND THAT NOBODY COULD IDENTIFY. SOME HAVE SAID IT TO BE A CREAK IN THE NIGHT, A WHISPER OF A NAME, A SCRITCH-SCRITCH-SCRAAAAAAAATCH THAT NOBODY CAN QUITE AGREE TO THE ORIGINS OF. SOME HAVE DISMISSED IT AS THE HOWL OF WIND, THE FALLING OF LEAVES, THE RUSTLING OF TREE BRANCHES AS THEY SHIMMY AND SHAKE AND MAKE GROTESQUE SHAPES THROUGH THE CURTAINS OF CLOSED WINDOWS. I THINK SPECULATION IS A FORM OF DENYING YOUR INNER BADASS. YOU COULD HIDE UNDER YOUR COVERS, OR PRETEND IT'S THE EMPTY COT BESIDE YOU HOLDING A BODY THAT WILL NEVER FILL IT. YOU COULD EVEN ASK ME TO BE SILENT FOR THE UMPITY-TEENTHIEST TIME, BUT I THINK THAT YOU SHOULD GO FORTH, MINIONS, AND PROVE TO MY ILYSCAETH AND MY XERMILTOTH THAT YOU ARE FORCES RECKONING-IFIABLE ENOUGH TO IMPRESS SOME OF THEIR BABIES. SO GO FORTH, PUT ON YOUR MEANEST FACES AND DO WHAT THE GUARDS HAVE CLEARLY FAILED TO DO. INVESTIGATE EVERY MYSTERY, AND DON'T GET KILLED IN THE PROCESS. »
That's right! There is a MYSTERY OF SOUNDS ABOUND, a spine-tingling, you're-not-alone-in-this-room-despite-the-emptiness-of-it that keeps taptaptaping and raprapraping on your brain. It's hard to say where it's coming from. Your bed? Your window? Your nextbed neighbor's incredibly infuriating sleep habits?
This part of the tunnels was darker than many. Rarely used the light was kept to a minimum and what there was created shadowed pockets along it's length. She giggled in the darkness of one of them, "You're going to be late, again," she muttered into the lips that pressed against hers. "Shaffit," the man swore, finally pulling himself way to head towards the duties awaiting him, but not before stealing one last kiss. Footfalls echoed down corridor and she was alone as she walked in the opposite direction.
Katekatekatekatekate…
The sound came out of nowhere, a whisper that echoed nearly unintelligible. Looking back over her shoulder icy green eyes searched the shadows for some sign of where it came from. Nothing. No one. Quiet. She took a breath and turned back the way she was headed. One step, two, and there it was again.
Katekatekatekatekate…
She looked again. Still there was nothing. No sign that anyone else was about. "Stop fucking with me," she warned the darkness and waited. It had to be him. Someone playing a joke. She waited and nothing happened save the shadows flickering. She shook her head and moved on. Three. Four Five.
Creaaaak.
A door opened ahead, hinges squeaking in protest of the movement. She followed the sound, curiosity perhaps getting the best of her. The room was empty when she stepped inside. Empty but for the mops, brooms and buckets it stored. When the door slammed behind her she jumped. Whirling around, hand moving instinctively to the knob.
Locked.
Panic set in. She turned the handle one way and the other. It turned but the door wouldn't open. If it wasn't locked it was stuck fast. She tried to scream, call for someone to help, but no sound came out. She banged on the door with palm and fist. Again and again until she finally stopped and rested her forehead against it. Click.
Creaaaak.
She stepped out sending a suspicious glance down the corridor in both directions. Shadows danced in the flickering light and she ran. Ran until the shadows disappeared she could hear voices. Only then did she stop, heart still racing as she pasted on a smile for the pair that she found around the corner.
It was nothing. The wind in an air shaft somewhere. It was nothing. Or was it…?