Page 1 of Eldritch

Before

The little girl had heard the noise before. In the deepest part of her sleep, in the middle of the night, she recognized it, and her brain awakened. Annoyance arose inside her. After all, she was usually awake when the sound came.

Sleep threatened to drag her under again. She sank into it as weariness asked her to ignore all else.

Thump. Thump. Drag. Thump.

She thought about ignoring it.

Thump. Thump. Drag. Thump.

No way to ignore that series of sounds.

What time is it?

It didn’t matter. The adults would solve the problem with the noise. Wouldn’t they? The sound always went away.

Thump. Thump. Drag. Thump.

Muffled. Inconsistent.

Her eyes opened to semi-darkness. The full moon shone in through the thin curtain over the single window.

She sighed. Annoyed. She could go downstairs and ask what the sound was, but she never got an answer. Only scolding. Words that told her she didn’t understand her place, and she’d better learn soon enough because women had rules and they must follow them.

As her grandfather sometimes said, “Little girls need to stay in their place. Women, too. That’s the best place for them. Worst thing ever happened was giving women the vote.”

Her parents sometimes agreed. She’d learned the less she injected any opinion, any sound at all to the conversation, the less they yammered. She’d ignored their lectures until they became nothing more than a meaningless, steady drone.

One thing for certain earned their praise. Obedience. Quiet. Stone cold stillness. They smiled then. At ease with her silence. She felt better when they smiled. Safer.

Her father did the same to her mother. Interrupting whenever her mother ventured an opinion. Telling her she was stupid or yelling at her. It was endless. Day after day. Until the little girl became a stone worn down by the steady drip of water on her for eons.

Her mommy had learned cruelty well. She could hear mommy’s voice now in her head, as if she was in the same room with her.

Have you cleaned your room? Don’t dust like that. You’ve done it half-assed again. You missed this spot. Aren’t you listening?

Thinking about it now, the anger grew. Fierce resentment made her wish it was her down in that basement. She wanted to be the aggressor. The person serving up justice. Bringing down the hammer, as she once heard her father say. I’m bringing down the hammer.

A scream ripped through the night.

She shot upright.

The wail came again, this time a garbled sound, a male voice that begged forgiveness and said one word over and over.

“No! No! No!”

A blood-curdling shriek. Another. Another.

The little girl’s blood turned icy to the core. In that moment, the shrieks evoked an unexpected emotion. Rather than the fear she should feel, instead, a fierce curiosity and desire to understand settled within. She put on her slippers, stood and walked toward the door. She opened it with a slow deliberation. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming shorter. She hesitated, but only for a moment. Then curiosity hit her full force once again. She slipped out into the semi-dark hallway, thankful for the silvery moonlight entering the windows and playing along the walls. Closing the door quietly, she tread toward the stairs.

“No! Please, no!”

Sobbing. Wailing. A horrifying conglomeration of otherworldly sounds she didn’t understand and couldn’t associate with anything she’d heard before.

Tonight it differed from all the other times.

Her fingers touched the stair railing. She stopped. Something slimy slipped between her fingers. Wet.

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