“Thap, Thap, Thap…”
A reiterated cry echoing its syllables into the branching halls, each drawn past narrow corners to then leak between the depths of porcelain toned passages . Like that of seconds, the slapping noise kept its pace, making sure to ring out every last bit of vibration from the contact of what seemed to be rope colliding with tiled floor. Once forlorn corridors now endowed with a presence; the company of rhythm.
“Ms Mary Mack, Mack, Mack all dressed in black, black, black. She has a knife, knife, knife stuck in her back, back, back. She cannot breathe, breathe, breathe. She can not cry, cry, cry. That’s why she begs, begs, begs. She begs to die, die, die.”
“Thap, Thap, Thap…”
“Thap, Thap, Thap…”
I pause, finding now my terror to engorge itself on these occurrences. I know of nothing, nor do I understand nothing. Those tend to fear what they do not know of, and so I have succumbed to this. What appeared to be such an innocent child’s nursery rhyme during my youth was now manipulated morbidly by an adolescent’s voice whose pitch lullabies in that of silver bells.
“Thap, Thap, Thap…”
And though judgment influences my conscience and encourages all the nerves webbed throughout my anatomy to turn my limbs in the opposite direction, my curiosity gets the best of me. Some temptations persuade better than others. So, with a lack of common sense, I find myself guided by the sound. The closer I get, the more my heart attempts to keep to the tune of…
“Thap, Thap, Thap…”
Approaching near, my sixth sense attempts to warn me of such. First, by embedding what feels like that of fine needles, each certain to attach itself to tender string of muscle along the columned vertebrae and back of the neck. Next, the prickling of hair rising on ends is influenced by a sudden rush of air concentrated on my exposed, naked flesh. However, the breeze is not that of a bitter kiss partnered with chill. Instead, it is distinguishing warm with a hint of moisture resembling that of a humid fog.
Maybe, if my stomach had not began to turn, I would of realized the hindering of what I followed, the noise. Yet, where my ears had forsaken me, my eyes delivered. As they peered a single silhouette was what my dilated pupils began to pick from the darkness. The more I stared, the more a once mere contour of a small person soon developed features. The girl, I confirmed, impressively stood as firm as a statue. Even her emotionless mask expression would not fail to crack.
The silence, I assumed, was eating away at both of us. That is not to say I desired a reaction from the child because, honestly, I knew not what she was capable of. And even if she gives the impression of being natural and harmless, I could not deny the foreboding miasma that enveloped her and soaked beneath my skin only then to bubble up in the form of goose bumps.
PAUSE
I shattered the still, unable to detain a shriek at the sight of what the youth could accomplish. My lungs throbbed under the pressure of my scream and thus made it difficult to gulp at air due to their sore interior. I pursed my eyelids closed wanting to shut out the image, but only to my disappointment found it burned into memory. As if in attempts to cleanse the horrific picture, my tears began to gather in droplets around the rims of my eyes until finally they could not withstand the tension built and finally tumbled over my flustered cheeks.
Would anyone blame me for recoiling, to turn away and rupture into a run? Whether or not, I could not cope and sought comfort in putting inches that would hopefully become miles between us. Nevertheless, rash actions on the foundations of instinct only led me to crash into a foreign object. In the beginning, I dare not open my eyes to witness the aftermath of my mistake, nonetheless, when a loving embrace folded along the length of my back, I dare not open my eyes to bid this blessing to disperse.
It clung to me; much like a worrying mother would, pressing you deeper into her bosom as if it was some means of protection. I bared gratitude for this shelter and later found myself mollified by the digits that now weaved their way through my hair, stroking their nails along the curve of my scalp. Once incoherent mumbles and moans muffled by my cupped palms now rose to the level of a sigh of contentment.
While the stroking continued, I made no action to disrupt the peace brought to me. Only when the soothing gestures stopped and I had collected my sanity, I began to peel my eyes open. A rather fuzzy hue of white first clouded my savior’s visage, but when the haze cleared my gaze was only directed on my locks now braided, well detached from my head, and dangling in a withered woman’s grasp.
Confusion struck, but my repossession of suppressed fright hit harder when the woman began to shape her prize into that of a noose and then proceeded to open the circlet as if beckoning my skull through.
END
(Possible Continuation)
