The thud came again.
Rose clicked the television silent; straining her ear against the storm that splattered the roof with a mixture of ran and hail. Tentacles of delicate fog scrapped across the window glass seeking shelter from the gale winds.
The soft thump came again from the basement as though someone, or something, had knocked a book to the floor. Rose gripped the arms of the chair and cursed her husband for leaving her alone on a night like this, knowing she is fearful of storms, empty houses and prowlers, however imaginary they might be. But no, he had to be in Las Vegas fucking with some blonde hooker with fake big tits pretending he was doing business. She knew her husband, only too well.
She had already lit every lamp and overhead light in the house, but they fail to dispel the damp, dreary feeling of impending doom.
Her husband, Jimmy had nagged her about getting a dog to keep her company on the nights he worked late, but Rose would not hear of such a thing. What if the dog gets rabies and went mad while she is alone with him? Her small delicate frame will be no match for a snarling, crazy-in-the-head animal who will shred her to pieces with its gnashing teeth.
The television screen flickered in muted silence as it ran the news story again, warning the public about the man with the knife. He had been evading the police for weeks, leaving behind no clues about how he slaughters women were home alone.
But Rose knew where the man was. He was in her basement skulking around the dark with the butcher knife between his teeth,his blood red eyes screaming with excitement as he neared the stairs leading to the living room, his hands shaking with anticipation, Any second, the door with creak open and bang shut, and off would go Rose’s head in a clean sweep.
But no such thing happened. For now.
The thumping continued, and Rose surprisingly discovered a rhythm. It was the first symphony of Beethoven, which even back then was thought to be death knocking on a door. Not long after Beethoven composed this, he lost his hearing and died.
The thumping was almost like an evil lullaby. It would only show it’s true colours after it had put it’s victim to sleep, when it would rear it’s ugly jaws to turn the sweet sounds of heavenly dreams into hellish screams of terror.
Suddenly, a clock chimed twelve somewhere from within the house, and the weather was worse than ever. The winds were blowing in through a crack in the window making a whistling sound. Rose got up and drifted over to the window and located the crack. She put her finger on the tiny hole and silence, only the thumping continued. She took her finger off and once again the wind howled in through the crack. She continued playing with it, on and off. It gave her a sudden feeling of calm, which emitted from her heart and spread throughout her body.
The thumping was now almost distant as an echo from long way off. The light from the perfumed candles she had lit cast eerie shadows on the walls and gave off an intoxicating scent.
She immediately relaxed, as though a bad omen had just passed over, cheated off another victim. Grimacing in satanic anger as it sulked away into the deep forests of the pitch-black night.
All of a sudden, when Rose was least expecting it, a resounding crack bounced off the old house’s walls and the door to the basement burst open revealing what was within.
Rose froze in fear, rooted to the spot. She didn’t dare even breathe. She felt a cramp coming in her left thigh but the cramp was nothing to what was coming next.
The thumping has now altogether stopped and the thumping from her heart had now begun.
All she could see was infinite and never ending darkness, which reeked through every corner of the basement. A draft of cold wind blew over her, which left her shivering.
She thought that probably the broken window in the basement was letting in the wind, which was making these sounds. As for the door, Jimmy maybe forgot to shut it properly the last time she had asked him to get her old gossip magazines. That sounded possible and pretty plausible.
But her heart beat on, the cacophony of sounds almost killing her. The wind, the thumping of her heart, the basement door creaking back and forth and the enigmatic silence.
She stood on to the same spot, sweat clinging to her body, oblivious to the fact that someone was standing right behind her with blood red eyes screaming with excitement, a butchers knife clutched in two sweaty palms sweating in anticipation.
Rose Caprio was pronounced dead at the St. Mary’s hospital at approximately 1:45 AM. The cause of death was an over-active imagination, which was so strong that it projected images in her mind that led to a fatal heart attack.
May her soul rest in peace…
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