You return home at the late, no, early hour of three o clock. The full moon hung ominously in the dark sky, much like a big white blotch on a black canvas that was oh so carefully splattered with tiny white dots here and there. It wasn't quite ready to retire for the night and allow its counterpart to take control. You were tired. You were used to this, boss wasn't happy with the proposal and you get to spend three more hours extra working on why the state of Washington should keep a stupid old tree alive while trying to avoid the stench of that fat, weirdo janitor who keeps hitting on you. But it was over now. The annoyances of everyday society could not reach you any more. No matter how hard they tried, you still would pay no mind to them. You stare down at your phone, noticing that it was dead you throw it to the side, not bothering to charge it.
You no longer cared for dinner, nor the episodes of Law and Order that you were hoping to catch up on. You had one thing on your mind and that was sleep. Sleep. Oh heavenly sub conscious reality that you happened to dream up. It was your only escape. And by golly you had six hours until your next shift at that god forsaken coffee shop, so you'd get to sleep ASAP. You sit down, not bothering to turn the light on. You'd never been afraid of the dark. That and the fact that you were already struggling between two jobs to make ends meet and wasting electricity was completely no bueno out of the question.
You curse when you realize that you hadn't fed your dog. You immediately stand up, walking angrily to the cheap, plastic dog bowl in your kitchen, considering you lived in a one bedroom flat it wasn't that much of a distance. You stared sternly down at your skiddish little dog, those dark brown eyes beeming up at you with both enthusiasm and exhaustion. He must have been up all night waiting for you, either that or he was up all night terrorizing your living room... But now was not the time to check. It'd have to wait. You didn't even care if there was a riot going on outside, you were to fatigued to really give a flippity fuck.
You bent over, carefully allowing the small chunks of chicken bi-product and wheat grain dog food to slip out of the large, brightly colored paper bag. You took a moment to wonder what other unhealthy servings were squished into those little square shaped chunks. No. Bed time. You walked back to your room, not knowing whether or not your dog was following or snacking on his unhealthy suppliants. Frankly it didn't matter to you. You plopped down onto your bed in a sloppy fashion, wriggling around under your blankets until you found a comfortable position.
You forgot to turn the fan on. You gave out an irritable sigh. Shaking your head slowly you simply shifted to the side. It was almost winter anyways, and that's all you really turned it on for anyways right? So there was no need to keep it at the corner of your room any longer. You're startled by the familiar feeling of your medium sized dog crawling under the blanket by your feet and snuggling up by your legs. Once again, you sigh, to tired to kick it off. Though it was a bit weird, usually your dog would walk around the house a bit before coming to bed. Oh well.
You close your eyes and furrow your eyebrows when you realize that you had grown accustomed to the loud, blowing fan. So much that it was becoming rather hard to fall asleep. And that old feeling was creeping up on you. Fear. How childish. The urge to pull the blanket over your head returns from the deepest depths of your adolescence and you bite your lip in nervousness. You find yourself thinking about how you should be comforted by the fact that you can hear anything within a mile of ear shot in this silence... But you're just annoyed by that fact. Because unfortunately, this kind of silence prevents you from getting a good nights sleep. You quickly shrug of this feeling. It doesn't matter. And soon you begin to fall into unconsciousness...
But that's when the tapping starts. Like nails, maybe even claws against the linoleum in your kitchen. You feel a ball drop in your gut. But the noise ceases to exist almost as fast as it came and you are once again left in silence. That didn't happen. You're simply imagining it. The darkness was playing tricks on you. You once again try to fall asleep, but the noise persists, this time in your bathroom. You get the urge to pull the blanket over your head once more but you do your best to resist and swallow when the noise ceases. At last sleep takes you... But only for a short time because you wake up at three thirty to a scratching sound in the hall. It was so close now. Not that you couldn't hear it clearly enough before. You go to reach for your phone that was usually on your nightstand being charged and feel fear sink into your chest once you realize that you had thrown it onto the couch in the living room.
Just like before, the noise stopped. What were you going to do? Call the cops?
"Hey uh, there was a noise outside my room?"
How pitiful. Idiot. You shook your head at your naivety before burying your head under the blanket and nearly jumping at your dog's sudden yapping. He's at your door... But you still feel that warm, hairy lump at your legs, almost at your thighs. You peer down, the blanket completely above your head as a bony, chillingly white face appeared from the dark crevices of your blanket, black eyes only accentuating the terrifying ear-to-ear smile it wore.
"Oh, so you've finally decided to join me," it said in a raspy, horribly deep tone as its cold, rough-skinned hand inched up your leg.