Author's Note: I wrote this last year in my noisy house and i used as many new words as possible to try to be cool. Basically just drabble.
Silence.
The never ending silence is deafening as it slowly engulfs me, wrapping its unforgiving fingers around my poor, defenseless ears.
Moments ago there had been a cacophony of noises, wafting all throughout this monstrosity of a house. From my room I could hear the high pitched screeches of children as they ran up and down the walls downstairs, the consistent barks of myriad dogs, and to top it all off, above all of the noise, came a single note. The note in question was octaves higher than any note within the range of an average human and was being shrieked out by an infant who was being denied of her television time.
This steady orchestra of hullabaloo pounded my ears for the better part of an hour, until there was… nothing. Right now, the dead air is so thick you can cut it with a knife. This sudden peace shouldn't bother me as much as it does, on account of how I was practically begging for silence seconds ago. Turns out that complete and utter darkness and a warm, fluffy blanket doesn't count for jacksquat when falling asleep if it's not accompanied by the serenity that only silence can bring.
You would think that my brain would react positively to the newfound silence, but nevertheless, my mind is swiftly dropping onto the brink of insanity. I jump out of bed, not stopping to pull on my slippers, and I slowly creep downstairs. All of the lights are off, which is strange considering the ruckus that had just subsided. I edge to the bottom of the stairs in the silent house, making the kitchen my first stop.
A gurgily feeling starts in my gut and spreads to my bones as I enter the kitchen. Either my subconscious can sense something horribly wrong and is warning me to go back, or I'm terribly hungry for a midnight snack. Step by step, tiptoe by tiptoe, I steadily make my way further into the dark room, and I see it.
Amongst the microwave, coffee maker, toaster and other small appliances on the counter, sits a very incongruous clown head, smiling a very menacing smile. It's about the size of baseball, with red cotton hair puffing out of the top of it. The head and I are still having a staring contest when I hear the footsteps. Judging by the sound of them, they belong to a fully grown man. The residents of my house are my three younger brothers, my baby sister, my mom and I. Considering how heavy of security we have on the house, and how it has not detected anything out of the ordinary, this conclusion is nothing short of impossible.
I quickly open the nearest closet and stow away into it, quietly closing it behind me. No way in the world was I going to stand in that kitchen and stick around for what happens next. I have seen way too many horror films to not know better, and it didn't take a genius to know I was basically in the first five minutes of Supernatural.