Be Quiet

(Flash Fiction)

I have to be quiet. I’ve learned that once it hits 9 p.m. I can’t make a sound, especially when the lights are off. That’s when it comes out.

I’ve only seen it a handful of times since I bought this old Victorian-like house with my husband three years ago. My husband has been gone for over 2 years now.

Before we discovered it, we had always been early birds when going to bed, it would be rare if we’d still be in the living room watching TV unless we had fallen asleep while watching a show. One night, we were watching a movie with the lights turned off, almost at the end of the movie when 9 p.m. rolled around. I was snuggled deep into the couch, my feet on my husband’s lap as I struggled to keep my eyes open. Until I heard a screech coming from what I thought was the TV. My heart skipped a beat as I slowly sat up and stared wide-eyed at my husband who also seemed disturbed by whatever that was.

He motioned for me to come closer before pointing at this grotesque-like creature perched up in the corner of the room on the ceiling. I couldn’t make out its face, but seeing its long thin arms and legs made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

My husband grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly, his voice was barely above a whisper as he said, “Let’s make a break for it to the bedroom.” I nodded, but as we both stood up the creature jumped and landed on my husband, twisting his insides with its claws. I covered my mouth, trying to control my heavy breathing as tears fell from my eyes. The creature went back to its corner thereafter and I quietly leaned over my husband, blood pooling around him. He glanced up at me with a pained smile and mouthed, “Be quiet.”

At this point, I know you’re probably asking why I haven’t moved. I was going to after my husband’s death, I had my things packed in boxes ready to leave within the next few weeks. The night before I was supposed to leave, I didn’t realize that it was nearing 9 pm and the lights flickered off. I was about to run to my room when I heard it. Instead, I leaped on my couch, covered my mouth to quiet myself, and closed my eyes tightly. After a few minutes, I didn’t hear it anymore, so I opened my eyes in hopes it left so I could make a beeline to my room. But it was on the ceiling above me. The last time I saw it I didn’t get a good look at its face, but now it was wearing my husband’s.