Short and Terrifying

Sounds in the Night Are a Man’s Job

Especially screams

(Made by ChatGPT)

“To think that the specter he sees is an illusion does not rob him of his terrors: it simply adds the further terror of madness itself.”

— C.S. Lewis

She screamed through the cracks of our bedroom door.

“Wake up,” I whispered to Claire, so the scream wouldn’t hear me. “Someone is in our apartment.” Claire rolled over, unwilling to join me in my waking nightmare.

Sounds in the middle of the night are a man’s job. I wish I kept a baseball bat beside the bed, instead of a fly swatter.

I crept down the hall in my underwear, fly swatter aloft like a fencing sword. The door to our spare bedroom was closed. A chair was propped against it. The handle was turning furiously. In the dumb madness of midnight, I opened the door.

Claire was standing there, wearing only her oodie. Her eyes terrorized.

“How did you get here before . . . ?”

“She locked me in!” Claire shook her finger back to our bedroom door. “You’ll need more than a fly swatter. She’s insane.” She handed me a kitchen knife and pushed me back to our bedroom.

A Claire shaped lump was still in our bed. She saw the knife in my hand and sat up. “What are you doing?”

“You screamed. In our spare bedroom. You gave me this knife.”

“It was just a dream,” she sighed. She got up and kissed me on the cheek. She took the knife and walked to our spare bedroom. I heard her fumble, yelping as if she stubbed her toe. Then she stood in the doorway. Out of breath.

“Nothing . . . nothing to worry about . . . back to bed.”

Claire put the kitchen knife back in the cupboard, and returned to the covers. I lay awake, listening for another scream.

In the morning Claire made me breakfast, holding that same kitchen knife, smeared in strawberry.