Moving Pictures, Silent Films.

There is something in the dark. In the corners of the house, where light shies away. Something that I cannot see. Something I cannot define. But I am certain that it is there. I have heard it, ticking away. Plotting my demise. I've told others about it. They don't believe me. But it's there. Not a trace of doubt in my mind.

In the early hours of the morning, when the sun hasn't risen yet, it's there. I'm terrified to leave the security of my bed. Terrified of what it might do. It's there when I eat. The food I eat may not be food. The air I breathe may not be air. The water I drink may not be water. Maybe it's poisoned. It would be convenient for It. Perhaps every breath I take, every morsel of food I consume brings me that much closer to death.

Misfortune appears to be its sustenance. A dropped plate, a stubbed toe, and I swear I can hear laughter. Faint enough so it might not be real, but loud enough to be audible. The laughter becomes louder each time a rapid succession of incidents occurs. I cannot determine where the laughter originates, because it seems to come from everywhere and nowhere. It's unnerving.

In the night, when I turn off the lights to rest, It is there. Drawing horrid, shuddering, bubbling breaths. As if it were trying to suck the very air out of the room, or perhaps my soul. Further under the covers I hide, desperate to avoid any interaction with him -- her -- it. Whatever it is. It, because I have no images to piece together, nor do I want to imagine what monstrosities hide in shadows.

When the lights have turned down and the world is falling asleep is when the nightmares come. The awful, twisted nightmares. One in particular stands out. Perhaps this is due to the fact that It appeared after said nightmare. Perhaps it is due to the fact that it was absolutely nerve wracking.

It had started off seeming normal. A plain, weather worn hotel was my place of residence for the night. My petite room consisted of a small bed facing the door, a bedside table with a tea tray, and a bathroom. On the floor I was located on, the rooms were arranged in a square pattern around a square hold in the center of the floor. Through the hole grew a large tree. Palm, or some other indoor tree. Anyway, from my location in the bed, I could see the staircase, along with any person or thing that happened to climb said stairs. As I was just settling into my bed, I heard a scratching upon my door. Wondering who could be calling on me at this hour, I opened the door. At my feet sat a feline that I recognized belonged to the hotel owner.

"I'm thirsty," purred the cat. "Do you have anything for me to drink?" Now, because reality in dreams does not always correspond with the reality of the world we exist in, this seemed perfectly normal. It didn't seem like anything out of Alice In Wonderland. It didn't appear that I had happened upon the world's first talking cat. No, it seemed as natural as eggs are eggs. But in this tricky world of ours, sometimes eggs aren't always as sure as eggs. Sometimes there are two yolks. Sometimes there isn't a yolk. Eggs have deformities. Eggs aren't always sure as eggs are eggs.

Anyway, I let the cat in and shut the door. I picked up a teacup from the tea tray, filled it with lukewarm tea from the speckled teapot and placed it on the floor next to the bed. "Thanks!" yowled the cat. After a few seconds on drinking, though, the tinkling sound of breaking china reached my ears. Looking down, I saw that the cat's paw was soaked with tea, and the teacup was cracked in two. Had it tried to pick it up? I never found out, because at that instant, the door burst open with a bang and the cat and its drink, teacup and all, vanished with a hiss.

I was thrown up against the wall, pinned by some unknown force above the bed. Slowly, I slid down the wall, but still pinned. The door slammed shut. Yet I was still pinned. The door burst open. There was something on the stair. Bang! The door slammed shut. Bang! The thing was closer. Bang! I heard the dying yowl of a cat. Bang! The cat was now dead, tied by its tail to a branch of the tree. The thing on the stair was closer still. Bang! The sound of metal upon metal reached my ears. Bang! The thing, which was close enough to be distinguished, held something large and glimmering in its hand. A butcher knife. It simply looked like someone wearing a large cloak with a shrouded face. Carrying a butcher knife.

I began to struggle against my invisible bonds, but to no avail. I was stuck here until whatever was holding me became bored of playing cat and mouse. The door didn't slam again, giving me a clear view of the thing's movements. It didn't walk, it seemed, but shimmered in and out of reality. It would fade out for a few seconds, but reappear closer than it had been. Then it occurred to me; I had a voice. I began to shout for help. For a few seconds, my voice made a crackling sound, sort of like television static, and then petered out. I was, essentially, mute. With a phantom cloak carrying a butcher knife floating towards my room. As the thing entered the door frame, the door began to slam again. As it hit the cloak, however, it was blasted off its hinges.

The door hit the wall next to me, just inches from my head. The cloak faded out, and reappeared next to the bed. It leaned down, putting its face uncomfortably close to mine. Although there was no face, as I could clearly see now, its breath stank of something putrid. And from that pitch black hole of a hood issued a laughter that would haunt me for months to come. The same, tittering, bubbling laugh. The knife it was holding suddenly splintered, pieces flying every which way. I raised my arms to cover myself from shrapnel. But somehow, they missed me entirely. I lowered my arms, realizing that no harm had come to me. My arms were free. My body was free, I realized. I looked at the hood again. Slowly, I curled my fingers in, one by one. As I drove my fist into where the head should be, it vanished. Like smoke dissipating in the air.

I awoke with a start, covered in sweat. And the same bubbling laugh that I had heard in my dreams echoed about the caverns in my head. Until I realized it wasn't in my mind anymore. It was real.