Was it the incessant ticking of that gargoyle of a clock on the desk that is keeping me awake? Or is it that feeling someone is peering into the room by the antique portrait on the opposite wall. Those eyes that seem to be staring at you in your bed haunt me every night.
I can’t wait to go home. Visiting my elderly aunt in her rickety stair cased home is not my idea of a vacation. Everything here in this house makes strange noises. Not those common sounds you hear in a happy home, but weird, creepy ones. I am used to the combination of the television, cell phones, doorbells, kitchen appliances, all causing a disturbing cacophony. I thought this visit would be relaxing.
This house is deathly quiet except for the odd noises. In the guest room I’m just trying to sleep a little before I have to board the train tomorrow to go home. Who would think the noisy, constantly moving chatter of my own home would feel so welcoming and safe?