Sounds

This wasn’t fun at all. Just as I was about to fall into a deep sleep, that happened again. The bursting sounds from the room across my own. Sounds of the door trying to be forced open. Sounds of the walls being were pounded on so hard and loud, I thought it would have awakened the neighbors other than just me. The vibration caused by the sounds could be felt in my bones, as if it they were alive and shaking me forcibly. As if it was an earthquake happening right under me. These sounds had always kept me awake.

I have no idea what could possibly be behind that door because it was kept locked by my father. I tried to solve the mystery three months ago to look for a way to enter that bedroom. I don’t remember why that room is always locked tight, but my dad had forbid anyone to go in. Not the maids. Not the other servants. Not the private tutors. Not even my mother or myself. It was constantly locked, the key hidden from the many eyes. We could pass by the room without receiving a fit thrown by my father. Just no entering, that was the only one, enforced rule.

Only my father knows what’s in there. Yet, he doesn’t talk about it or tell anyone what could possibly be in that room that makes noises that sounds like something wants to come out. Every time when I asked him what was in there, he would reply that it was nothing interesting. Nothing appealing that a ten-year-old girl like me would be fascinated in anyways. Of course, many children would believe in what their parent would tell them. They would be simply be happy that they got an answer and not asked about it. I, being ten years old and being educated since at the age of three, know more than anyone else. I knew that my father was lying. I’m a liar myself, that’s why. How could a lair not be able to see through another liar? All I knew was that my dad had something dangerous concealed away. I was determined to find out what may be in the locked room. I wasn’t so seriously about it until they began ruining my sleep.

After failing asking my father so many times before about the room, I tired seeking out the key to the door myself. Of course, that failed miserably. Even after searching through the Master Bedroom twice and the whole house millions of times, I couldn’t find a key that was hidden away or one that would fit in that small keyhole.

I didn’t give up though. After that plan to look for the key failed, I tried forcing the door open with everything I could find that wouldn’t catch the attention of the servants. None of the materials in the house worked. I even tried ramming through the door with my own strength. None of the methods worked apparently. Me and my smart brain. I could only imagine what could be behind that door.

And many would think that my guesses were out of this world.

Before I believed it were many kinds of monsters locked in that room. Just like in the stories and movies! Like those monsters that enjoyed hiding under your bed or being within the darkness of your closet. I crossed those ideas out though. Now, I think I got a new breed of monsters locked behind that door. The sounds that happened every night didn’t seem to be monsters or any being in the world that could cause those banging sounds. They could have gotten out a long time ago if they were physical beings.

And so, my new conclusion is that in fact the sounds are the monsters themselves. They are alive without a body. And they know that I can hear them every night from midnight till morning. They can feel my fear even if they were located somewhere a mile away from where I sat. It was obvious that I was afraid of them. They like it when I’m shaking with fear, hiding under my blankets. They desire the feeling of when I know I’m all alone in the world –for my parents can’t even hear these sound monsters chaotic noises. Only I could.

That is because they have chosen me.

Thus, because of being chosen, I had become a light sleeper these couple of months. I would even wake up at the sound of an owl hooting and even before the sounds themselves would start their taunting. They like it when I wake up in tears and cover my ears to tune them out somehow. They get louder and louder whenever I did cover my ears to keep them out of my head.

I hate them. I know when they get louder with their stupid banging, they are laughing at me. It’s funny to them, but not to me. I don’t really have any ideas what they want with me, but I have a feeling it’s not good. My fear is telling me these monsters are bad. They want me dead or something. Or perhaps something even worse.

I continue to sit on my bed, the three layers of blanket hugged tightly around my eyes. I tried so hard not to cover my ears. I hated it the most when they are laughing at me. I know well that I am weak and frail. They too know that fact. They know it so well that they continue to bash the walls and pound every night until the morning sun finally raises –forcing them to go to sleep until the next night again.

I covered my ears now. I had given up. I couldn’t take the laughing. They got louder than before. They caused my brain to act on its own. It had forced my body to cover my ears without any of my consent. During times like this, when the night will be a long one, I would force my brain to think of something else, something that will tune out the loud noises. I sometimes pretend to dream of something with my eyes closed. My body would tremble too horribly to lying straight down, so I would always sit straight up. Rarely, I would fall asleep while still sitting up; and the sounds would have stopped long after I had awoken. There are times that I would even wake up right before the maids come into my room to get me to wake up. My parents expect me to have dinner with them around seven in the morning before they head to work that began around nine. They call it ‘family bonding’ time. Breakfast and Dinner are usually the only time when we could get together and just talk like a normal family. However, between two middle-aged adults and a young child who was still expanding in her vocabulary, there was really nothing to talk about.

I finally realized that I had fallen asleep again, even when the sounds were laughing so noisily at me. Thinking about falling asleep, my parents and morning actually worked. I was exhausted. I probably only had two or three hours of sleep today. Usually, it’s even less. I should be happy that I got that much of sleep.

I was sick and tired of the sounds though. I shouldn’t be happy that I had fallen asleep through the noises like that. I need to solve this case as soon as possible. Even if father were to stop me or were to become my enemy, I must confront my fear: the Sound Monsters. I need to force them out of the room and out of this world so that they can finally stop bothering me. And so, I could finally get a good night’s rest. This is a test that I must go through on my own.

Reality check, what I had just planned appears to be almost too impossible to achieve or even to do. I’m just a little ten-year-old girl. There was barely anything I could do. And yet, I don’t let this thought stop me.

I yawned loudly, stretching out my arms and legs as far as I could make them. My body too tried to wake itself up as I frantically waved my arms and legs around. My eyesight is blurry and watery due to the long yawn. I slowly remove the blankets away from my bare legs, only to be greeted by the fresh crisp cold air that bit the bareness of my legs due to the fact that the skirt of my nightgown was rolled up pass my knees. I quickly covered my legs, hoping to get some kind of warmth.

As I worry about being warm, my door slowly opened itself. I looked up to see who it was this time that were to wake me up. Apparently, it was one of the recent maids that my father had hired. She had poked her head into my large room –a smile on her face, she told me with a gentle tone of voice, “Good morning, Aaralyn. It’s good to see you up so early in the morning again.”

Her name’s Pat, but her real name is Patrick. Weird, I know. I don’t even want to know why that’s her real name. “Yes, yes.” I dismissed whatever she meant by what she had said.

“I’ve already prepared your comb, brush and washcloth in the small bathroom like usual.” She informed. Same old same old.

I yawned again, rudely this time. I didn’t cover my mouth as how I was taught by my mother. I nodded without glancing back at Pat. “I’ll be right there.” I replied dryly. I had always hated my mornings and always will. Everyone in the house knew of it. And yet, they still try to get me up. I especially hate mornings now because of the stupid Sound Monsters disturbing me.

Pat left me alone in the cold room. Perhaps with a smile as usual sent towards me before she left. That’s how it works in this house. Always a smile on the maids’ face, there’s usually nothing else was on their faces. Not even a crumb around their lips when they would eat real fast. I really have no idea how they do it.

Unwillingly, I jumped off from the queen-sized bed, leaving my bed messy. I swing the door open wide, but light enough not to slam the door loudly. I didn’t want to attract everyone’s attention. I stopped walking before I turned to my left, staring at that door in front of me. It was alluring as ever. Even with the monsters fast asleep, their longing for me to open up the door to their evilness is strong. I’m not giving into what they want me to do. I’m doing what I want to do. And I need to face my fears and get back my sleep hours of that they stolen from me three months ago.

I snap away my eyes from the golden doorknob and walked down the hallway without a care. I followed the long red and gold carpet and straight down without glancing at the large portraits that were hung at the sides of the walls until I had reached the fourth door down from my own room.

I quickly went into the bathroom and began to brush my hair gradually. Not too fast or too slow. Unlike mom, she has maids and the other servants do it for her. She even gets her own maids to decide what clothing she would wear for the day. As much as I hate it, but the servants does the same thing for me too. I’ve gotten used to that fact at the least. It’s a great thing that the clothes they choose for me to wear are the ones that I picked out myself from shopping. Ignoring my rants of my mother and the servants, I quickly tried to comb my long black hair straight down, just until it looked neat enough for my parents during breakfast.

I looked at myself in the mirror. My poor eyes were slightly red, from the lack of sleep. However, the chocolate brown color of it still outshined it all. I’m sure that no one will be able to tell yet that I haven’t been getting enough sleep. I just need a little more time. A little more and I’ll be able to get into that room without any problems.

I’ve been following my father in secret the best I could when he had refused to work with me. Now, I feel like I have an idea where the hidden key might be located at. Then again, at the same time, I doubt my guesses are wrong. My father really keeps to himself a lot. I don’t think even my mother is able to tell what’s on my father’s mind. He doesn’t talk to me much either, but there are times when he’s a fun father. I should be grateful, but I wished he loved me just a bit more. Also, I wished he would believe what I say about what happens every night to me. But no one believes me. Not even the woman who gave birth to me in this world.

I looked away from my own brown eyes, staring down at the tiles of the bathroom floor and headed out the door that I didn’t close. I’m sure that Pat has already decided my clothes for the day while I was daydreaming of my parents again. I hope she is used to my style of how I wear my clothes or else she’ll get another scolding from me again. I don’t expect much from her however. She’s new after all.

Surprising, entering my room with my bed made so nicely, my chosen clothes were sitting at the edge of the bed. I smiled absentmindedly. Pat did get it right this time. Good for her. I grabbed the simple sleeveless dark violet dress with a white bow in the middle and quickly put it on. I could smell the scent of the sugary syrup piercing through my nose and the warm aroma of French toast, too, had flown into my room with pleasure.

I threw my nightgown at the foot of the bed and put on the matching sandals as fast as I could. I ran through the hallways all the way before I had reached to the stairs. At the top of it, I quickly fixed my hair straight again and petted down my skirt. I walked at an even pace down the steps, trying not to make too much of a sound and walked into the hallway that lead to both the Kitchen and to the Family Dining Room. Excited to have my favorite breakfast today, I skipped slightly to the small Dining Room with a tiny smile on my face. I gave only much of a glance to my parents before sitting down at my assigned seat at the round table, greeting them in a soft voice, “Good morning.”

The table was already all set up. Scrambled eggs, and the usual breakfast meal –as well as French Toast and syrup. I stared at the bread as my mother began to speak. “Are you well my dear? Your eyes are a little red.” Dang. I didn’t think she would notice that.

My mother’s hand tried to reach for my forehead, but slapped it away with a flat look on my face. “I’m fine.” I told her.

My father sighed, disappointed at my manners. “Your mother’s worried about your health, Aaralyn. Have some respect.” He meant my tone of voice and how I slapped her hand away. It wasn’t as sweet as how he would expect ten-year-old girls to say to their own mothers.

“Yes sir.” I answered in my tiniest voice, looking down at my plate.

“Oh honey, be easy on Aaralyn.” I heard my mother say. I sensed her movements turned towards me, I could imagine a smile on her face. She was just like those maids. “Eat up dear. We don’t have much time today to have breakfast together.”

I followed her orders and grabbed for three French toasts. I would have grabbed more only if my father wasn’t glaring at my way. I reached out for the syrup bottle with a wide smile on my face.

Aaralyn…

Before I could grab onto the syrup bottle’s handle, I turned to look out towards the direction where I had just came from. Someone was calling my name so low that I didn’t know exactly who was calling me. But when I looked up, confusing my parents, I knew there could have been no one calling me. And so, I ignored it. I was hungry. I’ll have more time to think about that later.

Aaralyn…

Now I knew it wasn’t my imagination. Someone was playing a joke on me, right? It can’t possibly be. Playing wasn’t really allowed in the house. My father hates the word: ‘playing’. Laughter was a rare event in the house and jokes are rude –as how my parents would say. So this could not have been a joke.

Before I could pour out the syrup onto my toast, I looked up again. My parents were too busy with their own food to notice that I had looked up and away from my food. I tried not to move too much, just my eyes, trying to seek out who was calling me. But it was just me and my parents. The other servants should be either working or having breakfast by now. They wouldn’t dare play a joke on me. Then who was calling me? And why?

Suddenly, I wasn’t in the mood to eat anymore. I realized who was calling me. I don’t know how they had gotten voices after all of this time, but this strong feeling was telling me that it was they who was calling me. The Sound Monsters. Even monsters can come out during the day. And today, they aren’t sleepy.

I continued to listen to them calling my name as I watched my parents eat their breakfast without peeping out a noise. Something was wrong as I continued to watch them eat. I could feel it. Something wrong with this routine. Yes, definitely! It all makes sense now! The Sound Monsters had already gotten out of that locked bedroom and is now controlling my parents and the maids. Suddenly, Pat knows what style of clothing I like wearing. She chooses the right clothes even though she’s the recent new maid! Even the maid that had been here longest still can’t get what I want to wear correct! Also, suddenly, my parents are not trying to have a conversation with me. They would have been by now! I’ve been talking to them for as long as I can remember.

I slowly slide my chair out, trying not to capture any attention from my possessed parents. I needed to go back. Up those stairs and into my parents’ room, the key had to be in there –another gut feeling. I have to see for myself what’s in that room and why it could be haunting only me. I have to face the monsters and demand why –even if they may eat me up. It’s better to die than to suffer in my opinion.

I back up, keeping my eyes on my parents who continued to eat without noticing my attempt to leave. And just as I thought they wouldn’t take notice, they glanced at the place where I had seated and then at my untouched French toasts. I didn’t take any chance and dashed out of the room before they could look at my way. The stomping of my feet on the wooden floor caused nearby eyes to turn and look at me, watching me as I run up the stairs with all of my might.

I ram into the half closed door of the Master Room, my lungs gasping for the oxygen for my rapid pumping heart and the tired muscles. I had no idea where to search for that key. I’m certain that my father would never keep the key with him. He tends to lose things that way so he always hid everything with the help of mother reminding him where he had hidden the items –other than the key to the locked room of course.

My mind raced as I tried to figure out the hiding place. Would it be hidden in an obvious place where people wouldn’t think the key would be hidden? Or would the key be kept far away from the eyes of the dozens of people in the house? It could be either or both. I wasn’t sure.

I didn’t know how much time I had before the possessed people would rush up to the Master Room to stop me to seek out that key, but I was not afraid of finding it and confronting them. If I don’t tell them to leave me alone, then who will? Everyone thinks I’m crazy or else it is my imagination that is running wild. I know that it’s neither.

I walked to my mom’s jewelry ‘dresser’ that reached up only to my neck. I could perfectly see the hundreds of jewelry she went through from this morning. At the bottom of a pile of gold and silver necklaces though, I saw something of a metal that were close to the color of an old and used bronze metal. I realized that it was in the shape of a key.

I looked at it, perplexed. My mother would never have a pedant in the shape of a key made out of bronze metal. And then it hit me. I removed the necklaces out of the way and saw a key I have never seen before. Trust me. I have seen all of the keys that went to every room to the house and this key is a key I have never seen before. It was only a moment late when it hit me. This had got to be the key. Who would have thought the key would be hidden under a pile of my mother’s jewelry? My father must move the key’s hiding spot over and over again. This must be why I didn’t find it the two times I’ve been in here.

I grabbed the key with a victorious grin. I couldn’t help but giggle. I didn’t spend all of my time laughing though.

The Sound Monsters were calling me again.

Those monsters were going to get a scolding that they have never had before. I ran out of the room with a one-track mind, ignoring the fact that the voice was calling my name louder and louder every passing second. At the end of the hallway, I caught sight of the tiny figures that belonged to my parents and the other servants walking slowly towards at me, staring at the ground and wobbling back and forth as if they had just finish spinning in circles too many times.

I had reached the door just as the crowd of people stood a yard away from me. Their hands stretched out, hoping to stop me from advancing towards the room. I really had no idea what the Sound Monsters wanted from me, but they weren’t going to stop me from entering this room.

And so, with a twist of the key in the keyhole, I ran into the room without looking back.

Seconds later while engulfed in a bright white light, I quickly found myself cold. My eyesight finally focused itself. In front of a hospital bed with machines and people gathered around it, I was standing alone in a corner, staring at them. Sobs and grief was thickly hanging in the air in this small room. I didn’t understand, but the tears from everyone’s eyes made me sad. I ignored that feeling thought and had to ask myself: why was I doing here? Where were the monsters? How did I get here?

I turned around and around in circles to look search for answers. No door behind me too. Did the room take me to another place in time? Perhaps dimension? I don’t know.

“Aaralyn, please forgive me my daughter!” I heard a woman shrieking my name, causing me to snap my eyes at the middle-aged woman who didn’t look anything at all like my mother. Her hair was short and her clothing was simple. Not like anything of the mom-wannabe I know of. Then I realized the woman wasn’t talking about me, for her face was staring at the person lying in the bed. Curious to know who also had the same name as I, my body moved slowly, my steps soft. My eyes traced in a slow pace at the body on the hospital bed. It was then when I found myself to have finally gone crazy when I saw my face. It was I who was lying in that bed. The person that everyone was crying for was me. Could this possibly be just a dream? Or was this real? Could these people were people that I knew, loved, and trust? Was that why it never felt right and never at ‘home’ back at that mansion?

I lifted my hands up to my eyes, trying to cover the sight of my pale colored self. I looked so skinny and frailer than I would when I looked in the mirror. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. The memories of the life I had flowed into my mind without fail. I remember who I was and how life was for me. I was poor. But satisfied. The very last memory that crawled into my mind was of that instant time, an accident caused by a car that forced my soul to pop out of my body on impact. I wondered off without realizing it, falling deep into a dream. A dream of a world I wanted and created. And the Sound Monsters were the people pleading for me to come back. The sounds of the door trying to be ripped open were their prayers that wanted to break apart the dream I protected around me. And the pounding of the walls were the shrieking of the pain my family screamed without holding back.

I had refused until the very last minute to reply back to their calls. I had come back too late and too slow to wake up from my dream.

I was already dead.