Sounds Of Not Silence

The sound of my snoring surprised me, when I was startled awake, but it wasn’t what disturbed my sleep. What caught my ear was a rapping sound, echoing from a distance. “Rap, rap, rap.” Then, it stopped.

Filled with curiosity, I clicked the remote, turning off the TV and dragged myself out of the recliner. Standing motionlessly, with my mouth slightly opened, I wait for the sound to return. A minute passed, when I decided I must have dreamed it and gave up on my investigation.

My stomach, aroused from its slumber, decided it wanted to be fed, and who was I to argue with it? When I opened the fridge door, my stomach growl with pleasure, when I spotted some gin and juice at the back of the shelf.

As I was reaching for my prize, the distant sound returned. “Rap, rap, rap.” I realized then, this was no dream. Someone or something was in my house was making a racket. The thought of calling 911 came to mind, but I quickly dismissed it. The chances of someone being in my house were minuscule and the thought of having the police telling me I have squeaky floorboards was too embarrassing. So, I decided it was time for me, Calvin Cordozar Broadus, to save the day.

Leaving my stomach in its empty state, I returned to the scene of the crime. With my back to the TV, I doubled my efforts in the listening game. Afraid I might be seen, by this boogeyman, I decided to lay low behind the couch. I wasn’t sure if my efforts paid off or if it was just a coincidence, but the sound return. “Rap, rap, rap.” This time, fully awake, I discovered the sounds were coming from upstairs.

Excitement had become my new companion. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever thought this old house could hold an adventure. I remembered when I first moved in here. The walls were covered with gang signs, and I thought, what am I getting into? But the next day, the painters came by and erased all things that made this house scary. Truthfully, I found life here was dull and a little boring. That was, until today, and now I’m going to make something of it.

I climbed up the stairs and stopped in front of my bedroom. There I stood, silently, waiting for that eerie sound, and there it was again. “Rap, rap, rap.” It was louder now, and from the sound of it, the sound was coming from the attic located at the end of the hallway.

Now, I owned this house for a year, but not once had I ever gone in the attic. Not knowing what to expect, I went to my bedroom and pulled out a heavy-duty flashlight. Not only did it shine brightly, it also was a good weapon, if I needed to club somebody on the head.

Feeling armed and dangerous, I continued my trek down the hallway. As I reached the doorway, to the attic, I noticed a chill in the air and could see my breath. If this were December, I could understand it. But it wasn’t. Absently, I gripped the flashlight tightly, worrying what could cause such a phenomenon. Gripping the brass doorknob with my free hand, I found it cold and slippery. Turning it with all my might, I heard the bolt click and the door creaked, as I pushed it open.

While I was stepping in, I was met with a blast of cold, musky air. As I inhaled it, I found myself repulsed at what I smelled, and nearly gagged. That’s when I thought, who am I? Why am I here? For a moment, I was tempted to give up on my adventure and return to TV land, but then it returned. “Rap, rap, rap.”

All doubts of what I was doing here vanished. The sound clearly came from a trunk in the far corner. Not wanting to risk injury by stepping on a lose board, I pointed the flashlight near the doorway and found a switch. I flicked the switch on and was nearly blinded with the brilliance of several overhead floodlights. Not needing the flashlight anymore, I decided to dim my light. Still, I gripped it like a hammer.

Slowly, I approached the trunk and as I did so, it became apparent, it was no ordinary trunk. It was four feet wide, three feet in width, and three feet tall. It was made of strips of cedar and cherry wood, and sported leather trim. The hasps and hinges were made from brass, and they still held their shine. Beautiful, I thought.

But now I had to solve the mystery. I reached for the locks on the trunk, but as I did, the sound returned, louder than ever. “RAP! RAP! RAP!” I could see the trunk vibrate each time the sound roared. Fear started to crawl down my spine, as I pondered as to what could be causing this to happen. Are there actually gremlins? Is that monster under the bed I was afraid of as a child, real?

The questions I could have asked would have been countless, but in the end, there was only one answer. I was afraid of the unknown and the only way to remedy this problem was to discover what that unknown is.

I popped open the latch on the left, then the right. I tried to lift the top open, but it wouldn’t budge. There, in between the two latches was a lock, with no key.

This is ridiculous. I began to hit the lock with my flashlight, like beating on a drum. As I fell into a rhythm, the rapping sound joined in. if I didn’t know better, I would say we were making music together.

Finally, I took one more great swing at the lock, and I heard it go snap. The moment my swinging stopped, so did the rapping sound. The lid of the trunk gave no resistance when I lifted it. Peering in the trunk, I was shocked to see a ghoulish face staring at me. My heart skipped a beat, but quickly settled down. For what I thought was a head, turned out to be sheets of paper sporting Snoop Dogg’s face and printed around it were some titles of his hit songs. Gin and Juice, Gang Signs, Lay Low, Dim My Light, Beautiful, and Who Am I? were some of them.

Still, I wondered, what caused the noise? I reached down in the trunk and felt the texture of the paper. As soon as I touched it, I began to laugh, for I realized the gods that be, played a trick on me. For what caused the ruckus was nothing more than rapping paper, doing its thing.