Did You Hear That?

Did you hear that?

The soft pitter-patter of rain outside, just beyond the large bay window behind your couch. You love this couch, with its dark gray fabric and plush black throw pillows. You could sink into it for hours, legs curled up beneath you, wrapped in a cozy embrace that makes it hard to get up. This is your refuge, a place where the worries of the world seem to melt away.

Did you hear that?

The muted thud of gently placing your mug—your favorite one, black with little ghosts—full of chamomile tea and honey down on the cork coaster on the end table to the right of the couch. The end table is nothing special, just a simple piece with room enough for a small reading lamp, a coaster, and a precarious stack of well-loved books, each one holding a world you long to escape into. The titles are worn, their spines cracked, but each one brings a rush of nostalgia, reminding you of lazy afternoons and the magic of stories.

Did you hear that?

The quiet rumble of your cat’s purrs as he curls up next to you on the couch. His name is simply Cat, and he’s the best companion you could ask for, always greeting you at the door and jumping onto the couch for cuddles as soon as you sit down. His coat is a smoky gray, almost the exact color of the couch, with white paws that look like little clouds. Those piercing green eyes hold an intelligence that often makes you wonder what he thinks about while he watches you, his gaze steady and unblinking.

Did you hear that?

The occasional rustle of a page turned as you read your book. It’s a gripping mystery, one that draws you in with its twists and turns, pulling you deeper into its world. The soft swish and crinkle of the paper soothes you. You lose track of time as you read, the outside world fading into a blur as the storm brews stronger, the rain tapping insistently against the window.

Did you hear that?

The soft pitter-patter of rain escalates to a steady drumbeat, accompanied by a crash of thunder. The storm is picking up, but you’re grateful to be inside, wrapped in warmth and comfort. Nothing can reach you here, in your little sanctuary, where the shadows dance playfully along the walls, and the sound of the rain feels like a lullaby. You sip your tea, letting the warmth seep into you.

Did you hear that?

The whining creak of the third baseboard from the back door—the one where only those who know this house intimately know to step over. But you know you locked the back door. You remember checking all the locks when you got home an hour ago. Didn’t you? The question lingers in your mind, and you attempt to push it aside, focusing on the comforting presence of Cat beside you.

Did you hear that?

The sound of heavy footsteps on the hardwood floor. They’re coming closer. Not trying to hide their sound. Your heart races as uncertainty floods your mind. Are you expecting someone? Is it friend or foe? Or is it all in your imagination? You tell yourself it’s just the storm, that it’s playing tricks on your senses, but the unease settles into your bones.

Did you hear that?

The turn of the door handle. You look up, frozen in horror as the door handle to your safe cocoon begins to turn. You can’t kid yourself any longer—this is not your imagination. Someone is in your house, and the realization sends a chill down your spine.

Did you hear that?

The gentle shuffling as the door opens over the lush carpet. You rack your brain for who it could be. Did you forget that you invited someone over? Panic bubbles in your chest, mixing with disbelief. The shadows shift in the room, the flickering light from the lamp creating an unsettling dance on the walls.

Did you hear that?

The drips of rain that fall off the dark-clad figure looming in the doorway. You can’t make out the face under the broad-brimmed hat. In one hand, you catch the gleam of a knife. A wave of dread crashes over you as realization sinks in: this is no friend. This is a nightmare; the kind that twists your reality and makes you question everything you thought you knew.

Did you hear that?

The muted thud of his boots—heavy and rugged with scuffed toes—padding over the carpet toward you. Each step is accompanied by a soft shuffling, a direct contrast to the ominous presence he exudes. Soaking from the raging storm, his boots leave faint, water-streaked impressions on the carpet, and you find yourself hoping he isn’t tracking mud into your favorite room. The absurdity of that thought clashes violently with the fear gripping your heart.

Did you hear that?

The blood-curdling scream you let out when the scene before you solidifies in your mind, shattering the illusion of safety. It’s a sound that reverberates through the house, echoing off the walls as if even the structure feels the terror.

Did you hear that?

The hiss of Cat as he jumps off the couch and darts past the stranger, fleeing out the door. Now you are alone with this intruder, your heart pounding like a war drum, each beat reminding you of your vulnerability.

Did you hear that?

The thwack your book makes as it falls to the floor, a sad excuse for a weapon. You consider grabbing it, but your limbs feel heavy, paralyzed by fear.

Did you hear that?

The evil laugh of the stranger as his steps come closer, the sound echoing in the hollow space of your heart. It’s a sound that feels wrong, as if it belongs in a different world, one far removed from your cozy haven.

Did you hear that?

The sickly wet thud of a knife plunging into the flesh of your stomach. The world narrows to that single point of pain, and everything else fades into a distant blur.

Did you hear that?

The unbelievable gasp that escapes your lips as you look down, horrified to see the knife embedded in your belly. You watch in disbelief as the stranger pulls it out only to stab it back in again and again, each movement deliberate and cold, each thrust stealing away your breath and strength.

Did you hear that?

The crash you make as you crumble to the ground, knocking your lamp and tea over in the process. The room suddenly feels darker, and you wonder if the power has gone out. The carpet beneath you is soft, but it feels foreign now.

Did you hear that?

The final crack of thunder and flash of lightning. The storm is drawing to a close, and the drumbeat of rain slows to a soft tapping, as if the world itself is holding its breath, waiting for what comes next.

Did you hear that?

The chime of a ringing phone that will never be answered again. It rings and rings, a cruel reminder of the outside world that has just slipped away.

Did you hear that?

The silence of death. It settles over you like a heavy blanket, suffocating and cold, the finality of it sinking in as you drift away from this cruel, cruel world.