Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Due to work commitments, I have always set my alarm for five-thirty. Perhaps it’s a matter of habit, as I usually start to wake up slowly even before the alarm goes off.
One morning, the alarm had not yet sounded, and I was still in a drowsy state, half-asleep and half-awake, when I vaguely heard the sound of a plastic bag from a distance.
It wasn’t the rustling sound of something being shuffled; it was more like the sharp “whoosh!” of someone forcefully swinging a plastic bag. Because it seemed to come from some distance away, I instinctively thought, “Is someone next door sorting their trash this early?”
After the “whoosh!” there followed a “thud!” as something somewhat heavy was tossed into the plastic bag, but it was just that one sound.
After a moment of silence, there came another “whoosh!” followed by another “thud!” as something else was thrown into the bag.
This time, the sound was slightly louder than before, and after another brief silence, it happened again.
At this point, I was still feeling groggy, lying on my side with my eyes closed against the wall, my mind teetering between wakefulness and sleep. However, after hearing this sequence three or four times, I gradually began to feel that something was off…
I couldn’t shake the feeling that… the sounds seemed to be getting closer…
Just as this thought crossed my mind, there came another sharp “whoosh!”
This time, the sound was so close it felt as if it were right behind me!
I instantly opened my eyes—
And at that moment, the alarm began to beep loudly.
I immediately sprang out of bed and turned on the light, but as I looked around the room, there was nothing unusual at all...
In the middle of the night, in a haze of sleepiness, I vaguely heard a strange sound.
Hmm... I couldn't quite describe it, but it sounded like someone was "chirping" or teasing an animal. Since there were often stray cats wandering around our alley, I instinctively thought someone must be playing with a cat, even though I didn't hear any cat sounds at that moment...
My bed was right next to a floor-to-ceiling window, and outside that window was the alley. In the dead of night, if someone walked by, I could hear even the faintest footsteps clearly.
At first, the sound seemed to come from a distance, probably somewhere in the middle of the alley; after about a minute or two, that "chirping" sound returned, feeling closer now—perhaps at the boundary between my neighbor's place and my front door. However, strangely enough, I didn't hear any footsteps. A few minutes later, the same sound came again—
It was so close that it felt like it was right outside my floor-to-ceiling window!
At that moment, I was lying on my side with my back to the window. My mind, still in a half-dream state, snapped awake upon hearing that sound, but I couldn't move; I didn't have the courage to turn around and face whatever was behind me...
Just as I was trembling with fear and uncertainty, the house suddenly shook violently—an earthquake!
My phone on the bedside emitted a piercing alarm that shattered the silence.
I pretended to fumble for my phone and slowly turned to lie flat to check my messages while stealing glances at the floor-to-ceiling window—
At that moment, perhaps due to the earthquake, my neighbor across the way turned on their lights, and their illumination just happened to shine outside my window—
There was nothing there.
Letting out a quiet sigh of relief, I placed my phone back on the bedside table, deciding to dismiss everything that had just happened as a mere illusion. I turned over and tried to go back to sleep.
Before long, the neighbor across the way turned off their lights, and darkness enveloped the surroundings once more.
Then, the sound returned!
This time, it seemed to be coming from the alley in the distance, but I couldn't help but hold my breath, focusing intently as I waited for a while...
Nothing. I was certain it had not returned.
At last, I could finally relax and drift off to sleep...
Comment 0 Comment Count