The Cry

I heard a cry.
It started as a simple sigh, but all too quickly it turned from that to a muffled moan.
And then a cry of stress and strife.
It woke me from a deep sleep and as I sat up from my bed in the dead of night my lifeless body rose and began to wander, wondering how such a troubled cry could be heard through the gentle airs of the night inside my home.
For you see, I lived alone.
Yet as my bare feet beat the floor and I began to wonder more and more, tired eyes wide in disbelief, I heard it still.
A quiet cry that broke through the air, awakened every single hair, as they stood up on end to hear the terrifying sound.
Of a cry, in the dead of night, coming from down the hall of the dark apartment inhabited by one alone, who listened and heard a cry.
I paused.
What nonsense, I said to myself and decided as the world of my dreams and realities collided and reminded myself that my imagination was far too excited.
On this night, when I heard a cry.
Turning on an anxious heel, I turned and quickly walked back into my room, closing the door to all outside even the one so broken as to try and wake me with a sorrowful sigh.
I knew not why he cried, or she perhaps, I did not know that either.
I knew only of the fear that lived inside, deep in my chest and I heard the cry, one I couldn’t keep out no longer how hard I tried, or stayed with my back pressed against my bedroom door.
Time passed and the silence filled with an ominous ticking from the clock that hung on my bedroom wall, and I began to lean and fall, until so many moments passed that I lay in an unconscious heap on my bedroom floor, against my bedroom door.
Sleep came to me once again, my unconscious self forgetting the sound that had risen me before.
Asleep, and sound I stayed there.
Even when the cry came ever so close, from a mouth that breathed beneath my bedroom door.


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