{"id":194,"date":"2011-03-29T00:28:10","date_gmt":"2011-03-29T07:28:10","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/?p=194"},"modified":"2011-03-29T10:51:20","modified_gmt":"2011-03-29T17:51:20","slug":"restless-killing-friends-8","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/restless-killing-friends-8\/","title":{"rendered":"Restless – Killing Friends 8"},"content":{"rendered":"

For Marie Lidstone<\/em><\/p>\n

Marie leaned against the washing machine with her chin resting in her hand. She was exhausted and didn’t really understand why. She had felt this way for days now. Each night she’d gotten at least nine hours of sleep and yet in the morning she felt more rundown than the night before. Her days hadn’t even been all that strenuous. Not more than usual anyway.<\/p>\n

The humming of the dryer next to her reverberated off the cold basement walls. She closed her eyes and focused on the sound letting the hypnotic rhythm lull her towards sleep. Just as she had given in to the proverbial sandman, she was awoken by a loud thud from upstairs where her children were.<\/p>\n

\u201cGerald!\u201d She shouted to her husband through the tiny vent that separated the laundry room from the living room above. \u201cCheck on the boys\u201d.<\/p>\n

Marie could hear her husband snoring above her. He’d been having the same sleeping problems and had fallen asleep while watching TV. It must have been some kind of bug, the flu or something, sapping their energy. She had been having a harder time than usual getting the kids out of bed in the morning too but at their age, it wasn’t long before they had tapped into their energy reserve and carried on with their day.<\/p>\n

Making her way up the stairs, Marie rubbed her tired eyes. Once she finished this last load of laundry, she could go to bed. She prayed that she would feel rested in the morning. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take.
\n
\nOn her way to the kid’s room, she popped her head into the living room to check on her sleeping husband. He slept in his burgundy recliner with his feet up. The TV played clips from the hockey game that had aired earlier.<\/p>\n

\u201cGerald\u201d, she said to him. He didn’t respond so she shook his shoulder. He stirred and mumbled something at her. \u201cWhy don’t you go to bed, honey?\u201d she said, \u201cYou’ll hurt your back sleeping there\u201d.<\/p>\n

\u201cYep\u201d, came her husband’s muffled reply. \u201cI’m going\u201d<\/p>\n

Satisfied enough with his response, Marie continued up the stairs to the bedrooms. The only light in the hallway was that of a small nightlight, the tiny glow distorting her shadow as she walked. Once she’d reached the bedroom door, an ice cold breeze sent chills through her body. The kids must have had their window open. She turned the knob to their room and slowly opened the door.<\/p>\n

The door opened to reveal her two sons, Jordan and Mark. They were both laying on the floor. Twelve year old Mark read aloud from a Goosebumps book and his younger brother listened wide-eyed. In spite of the six year age difference, both boys got along considerably well. She leaned against the door frame and watched them in silence. They were both too caught up in the story to even notice her there.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you think you should be reading those scary stories to your brother?\u201d she asked trying to sound scornful. <\/p>\n

\u201cHe’s too young to really understand what’s going on anyway\u201d, said Mark. \u201cReading out loud helps me understand it better\u201d.<\/p>\n

\u201cI’m not too young\u201d, scowled Jordan with his arms crossed. \u201cI’m six\u201d.<\/p>\n

Marie smiled to herself.<\/p>\n

\u201cAlright, but finish up. It’s time for bed\u201d. She glanced around the room searching for the source of the bang she’d heard earlier. The room needed to by tidied but Marie saw nothing out of the ordinary. She was surprised, though, to see that their window was closed. \u201cI heard a thump earlier\u201d she said. \u201cWhat was that about?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing\u201d, said Mark. \u201cWe were just playing around\u201d<\/p>\n

Jordan looked down at his hands in guilt. Usually when they were acting like this, it meant they had been fighting. It was rare but they did have the occasional brawl. Nobody seemed hurt, and they were getting along now, so she didn’t press the issue.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat’s enough\u201d, she said softly. \u201cOff to bed\u201d. Marie watched them climb into their separate beds and wished them a good night. Shutting the door behind her, she left them alone with their nightlight.<\/p>\n

On her way back to the laundry room, Marie stopped quickly to look in on her husband. He was still sleeping in the chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cGerald. Bed\u201d, she said in passing. He mumbled some sort of reply that she didn’t bother attempting to decipher. <\/p>\n

While folding the laundry, Marie noticed a high-pitched ringing in her ear. She inserted her finger, moving it around as if it would, somehow, dislodge whatever was causing the problem. Defeated, she credited it to the exhaustion and lifted the heavy basket into her arms. She embarked on the long journey back upstairs to her bedroom.<\/p>\n

As she climbed the stairs, the ringing seemed to get worse. She could barely hear her husband snoring as she passed the living room. She’d given up on him for the night. When he woke up with a stiff back, though, she would be there to say \u201cI told you so\u201d.<\/p>\n

Tackling the flight of stairs to the bedrooms, the draft returned. It was much colder this time forcing her to shiver slightly. She suddenly felt very uneasy. Something wasn’t right. Fear overcame her and she didn’t understand why. Everything was too quiet, she heard nothing but the ringing in her ears. The hallway seemed darker than earlier and she tried, unsuccessfully, to take solace in the glow from the nightlight. <\/p>\n

Marie reached the top of the stairs near her bedroom door. She slowly reached for the handle with the same reluctance a child has at bedtime, when they suspect something is waiting for them under the bed. It was getting colder, she could see her breath now. She nearly withdrew her hand in surprise when she touched the ice-cold metal knob. <\/p>\n

The ringing in her ear seemed to get more severe as she slowly pushed the door open. She stared into the dark room and the hairs stood up on the back of her neck. She was overwhelmed by a nauseating wave of terror. Standing at the head of her bed was a tall, dark, figure. It didn’t move. It just stood there, staring back at her.<\/p>\n

With a trembling hand, she flipped on the light switch \u2013 silently praying that the light would mock her for fearing something as silly as a shadow. No light came. Frozen in place, Marie stared at the figure.<\/p>\n

It had no facial features but she could feel it glaring at her. It appeared to be a shadow but was completely solid. Marie nearly choked on her own fear when the thing moved. In an instant, it lifted its arm. The shadow slowly extended its long finger and pointed at her bed as if commanding her to sleep.<\/p>\n

Marie dropped the basket of laundry and forced her shaking legs to take her out of the room. The ringing in her ears intensified and pressure began to build up until, finally, they popped with excruciating pain. She tried to scream but nothing came out. She half ran, half fell, down the stairs and burst into the living room.<\/p>\n

The ringing had stopped but now everything sounded muffled. It was as if she was under water. She could barely hear the sounds coming from the TV and Gerald’s snoring sounded miles away. She erupted into tears when she looked at him.<\/p>\n

Standing next to her husband was another figure, identical to the one she had seen standing by her bed. It had its hand wrapped around Gerald’s eyes, while he slept, as if to shield him from some horrible sight. A sudden realization hit her and her fear turned to desperation. She had to get to her children.<\/p>\n

Marie bolted up the stairs ignoring the rapidly decreasing temperature. She stared into her bedroom as she passed and gasped at the figure that had moved to her doorway. It reached for her but allowed her to pass.<\/p>\n

She stared into each of the rooms as she ran down the hallway. Each one was occupied by several of the beings. With the help of the faint glow from the nightlight, she could barely make out their dark heads as they turned to face her when she passed. The carpet in front of the kid’s bedroom had frosted over and crunched under her feet. She turned the handle and did her best to ignore the scorching pain caused by its icy surface.<\/p>\n

As soon as she had opened the door, Marie went completely deaf. The muffled sounds stopped and she stared in horror at the two shadows, each one standing next to one of her children. They turned to her as she entered, their hands resting on the eyes of her boys. <\/p>\n

She tried to run toward the beds but felt as though she were moving in slow motion. It was as if she were in some kind of dream-like state. It didn’t feel as though she was getting anywhere. No matter how fast she ran, the beds were out of reach. She struggled to breathe, each breath filling her lungs with unbearably cold air. Slipping on a patch of frozen hardwood flooring, Marie hit the ground hard. The air was forced out of her lungs and she began to cry.<\/p>\n

She stared up from the floor as one of the figures approached her. Tears flowed from her eyes, freezing to her cheeks. She tried to speak, to beg this thing to leave her and her family alone. The monster reached down and covered her eyes with its hand. Immediately, she fell into a long, restless, sleep.<\/p>\n

Read the other Killing Friends stories here.<\/em><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

For Marie Lidstone<\/em><\/p>\n

∼ Continue Reading ∼<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[8,16,19,22,14,10,4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-194","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-flash-fiction","category-horror","category-killing-friends","category-paranormal","category-requests","category-shorts","category-stories"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/194","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=194"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/194\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":199,"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/194\/revisions\/199"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=194"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=194"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.marklidstone.com\/TheWriter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=194"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}