A Breathless Night

(the year was 1902)

• Mystery
• Poetry
• Short story
• Horror

								
Story One,
Chapter One: A Breathless Night… 

(The year was 1902.)

A breathless night… 

Dream of murder, dream of my own is differ… 

Waken every hour, charging my hands to my chest, scared with wet steaming tears… 

What could this mean, I thought- 

A playful plastic bag, one to easily suffocate a blind sided child. 

Was me. 

A man? or women? I couldn't see when they tied that playful bag over my head. 

So tight my hands couldn't rip a hole, wanting, Needing to inhale that teasing air. 

Ongoing time of every back to sleep I had.. 

Yet awakened with dripping sweats beneath my scalp, beneath my skin. Deeper in ‘n’ out I breathed, trying the will’s to calm. 

I cried… Sweat merging with salty tears of fright. And I ran, running I did,  anxiously I did, crying like a burden I did, opening Mothers door… I did… 

“Mummy.” I shook her peaceful sleep, needing her comfort. Needing her calmful voice. Those motherly instincts to breathe once a-more.

“Mommy please wake up, I can't breathe… I'm scared…” What I needed was not given, as a wretched growl, forced from a sleepy tone. 

“Leave me alone!” 

“I can't breathe, I don't know what to do, please mommy where's my inhaler?!” 

“I don't care, go back to sleep!” 

In tears I looked for my inhaler, the cats looked at me, looking as if I was crazy. 

A *puff* as I held my breath and counted to- “One… Two… Three…” 

*puff* “One… Two… Three…”  

*puff* “One… Two… Three…” 

Surely not that good of use, for or of me…

Fallen back to sleep with an ongoing suffocation of my own slowfull, painful, silent death. 

And yet again, I’ve woken up. This time was different, this time I’ve woken with a silence but one…

…

 This time I heard the rumbles of a plastic bag, in the distance. 

I froze, with a thought- 

“It’s just mother taking out the trash.” 

I exhaled with relief. Looking up at the clock stating- 3:05 Am. 

The silence of the plastic bags, like someone was looking for one that didn’t contain rips, would do. Just like in my dream.

Mothers snoring was heard, as my relief of safety was lifted from worry, worried that turned into fear. 

I feared that any sudden move, any sudden breath, hell any sudden blink to the eye. I would find out who was rumbling those bags. 

It wasn’t the cats as they stood directly outside my room. With widened eyes, they sat up as still as a statue. And stared directly towards the kitchen. 

I kept on thinking. “If I move, what if the cats look over to me. Making the person out there believe I’m awake.”

My mouth that was once moist was now as dry as it could be. And all I could do was breathe… 
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