A soft sound, barely loud enough to even register to ones’ ear, came in a splatter upon enameled cast-iron. No one, especially not the one in the bedroom, would have heard it unless they were within earshot. The liquid from the faucet dripped out every few seconds with a soft “plop”, the sink having not been turned off completely. There was a single lamp that lit the bedroom, dusk having already passed not too long ago and the rest of the house was void of any other light. The only sound in the entire house was the soft hushed whine from the small animal at the foot of the bed, and the tormented breathing from the one curled in the middle of the bed.
How should he stop the howling wolves that trample their feet all around his head? How could he possibly dim the frightening scenes that replay when his eyes are closed?
He sees the house cave in on itself, the room changing and morphing into something else. He suddenly feels cold,