After he brushed his teeth, kissed his mother goodnight and said prayers, Kelly shut off the light switch and climbed into bed. 
He lay in darkness for the moment, dwelling again on the exciting day.  He was determined to have good dreams this night, and his terrible nightmares would not get the best of him.
This night was different.
He dreamt about Julie, how her face lit up every time he told a joke, and how he always seemed in a happy mood whenever he looked at her.  He envisioned himself chasing after her inside of a cornfield, playfully slapping at the long stalks as he ran at full speed.  She would search for a place to hide and he would attempt to find her. 
He was running with all of his might, as row after row of corn stalks flashed by.  His heart was pounding and felt like a ticking time bomb that was ready to explode. 
He finally spotted her in a clearing, as the sun shone down upon her.  She stood there smiling, ready to greet him. 
He reached out with both arms to tag her, but instead, tackled her playfully, as they fell to the ground laughing.  There were no normal outside noises: no birds, automobiles, planes passing overhead, or spoken words. 
But strangely, there was one sound throughout most of the dream: a constant tapping noise, like a record skipping.
He focused intently on the sound. 
It wasn’t familiar.  It was ringing from his ears -- louder and louder, increasing in volume the longer he listened.
With total concentration upon the sound, his vision became blurred.
Julie’s happy face faded to black, as the noise in the background drummed on.
Kelly was suddenly awake in bed, staring ahead into the darkness of the bedroom. 
CREEK...CREEK...CREEK.
The sound echoed from the corner of the room by his door. 
His body stiffened underneath the covers, as his mind raced to remember what objects were within the area of the mysterious noise. 
He could envision his closet there, along with a study desk and a wastebasket, nothing else except…a rocking chair. 
He lay upon the bed on his stomach, face buried into the pillow, sweat beading upon his forehead. 
Light from the moon shone through his window and illuminated a corner of his room by the chair.
He cursed under his breath for being so stupid and not bringing Sassy upstairs with him when he went to bed, like he had on other occasions.  He had been so engrossed by the evening’s events that he had totally forgotten about his faithful watchdog.
CREEK...CREEK...CREEK. 
He knew what the mysterious sound was, the rocking chair, but what was causing it to rock?  Someone, or something, was in that chair.
A chill like a glacier sliding underwater crept over him.  Whatever sat in that chair had him pinned against the wall with no escape route out.  He was trapped, and not a soul could rescue him before this thing, whatever it was, got to him. 
If he pretended not to notice it and just lay still, the thing would eventually take him by surprise in the darkness, and he didn't want that to happen.  To be fed upon when you least expected it would be like walking into a lion's den wearing a blindfold and being basted in barbecue sauce.
He had to get to that door; it was the only solution.
CREEK...CREEK...CREEK
The sound was maddening in his mind.  He couldn't take hearing the chilling squeak of the floorboard as the wooden leg of the chair rolled upon it.  He couldn't stand not seeing the face behind the force.  He had to get a glimpse of whatever sat in that chair!
If he could just peek around the pillow without alerting the thing, maybe then he would know what he was up against.
His body was hot.  It felt like he would burst into flames at any minute, as the weight of the blankets scorched him alive underneath. 
CREEK...CREEK...CREEK.
The moon reflected silhouettes of tree branches upon the bedroom wall just beyond his feet.  The shadows bounced and swayed like a puppet controlled by strings.
He began turning his head slowly in the pillow, keeping his nose buried deep within it to avoid alarming the thing in the chair.  As his sight focused off the pillowcase and onto the floor, he followed a trace of a light beam that shone straight towards the chair.
Two gray and blue veined feet appeared. 
Startled, but unable to look away, his eyes continued farther upward. 
Bony legs draped inside a long, black gown pumped up and down in a rocking motion.
Focusing upon the whole chair now, his mouth opened in ghastly horror.
A withered, old woman with the menacing grin of the Devil sat rocking back and forth.
Her bottom lip protruded, and the corners of her mouth sliced toward her cheeks in a wicked smile.  Clear, bulging, white eyes were open and alert like a cobra’s, ready to strike quickly.  The skin under her neck hung loosely as she rested her head against the back of the chair.  Her hands lay motionless upon the chair's arms.
Kelly knew she was aware of his awakening: she had been waiting patiently for him to acknowledge her.  Now that he had, she was paralyzing him with a stare so powerful that it made him numb and nauseous inside.
Blackness seemed to roll in around his eyes as he quickly realized he was about to pass out.  Any moment now, he would lose consciousness.
She began to tap her fingers slowly upon the armrest, driving each fingernail into the wooden finish.  The hollow sound of the long tips cut across his spine. 
Looking at him, she laughed.  First in a mild amused tone, then into a harder, congested, phlegm forced burst, which made her wheeze with deep breaths afterwards.
She placed her trembling, frail hand into the air. 
With one finger erected, she pointed at him and spoke in a voice that sounded as though her vocal chords had been severed in half.
"YOU are the chosen one -- and YOU will die!" 
She smiled with deep pleasure, squinting as she examined his reaction.
Kelly had heard enough.  There was no way he was going to sit still while she carved him up.
He ran as fast as he could, throwing off the sheets in frenzy and speeding past the chair through the doorway.  He took the stairs three at a time, almost rolling down the last five steps.  When he got to the living room it was dark and empty.  Looking up at the clock on the wall, he discovered it was 1 a.m.  Everyone was in deep sleep.
Opening the door to his mom's bedroom, he proceeded in.
He shook her repetitively.
"Mom?  Mom?  Are you up?"
She looked up at him drearily, then snapped alert. 
"Hmmm.  I am now.  What is it, honey?  What’s wrong?"
"I can't sleep.  I had a bad dream again."
He knew it was more than just a bad dream.  But if he went on screaming about an old witch in his bedroom after midnight, she would just assume it was a nightmare and tell him to go back to bed.  He didn't care what she thought, though.  He just wanted to feel safer.  And laying next to her, he felt just a little bit more protected. 
But how much longer would he be able to remain safe?

Excerpt from THE SILENCE