The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

The Stillness   
by Kathleen McCluskey

The world ended without thunder or flame. It ended in silence, the kind that seeps into your bones and fills every hollow space. No one could say when the sound began to fade. First the distant hum of traffic dulled, then the birds grew mute until finally even the wind forgot how to move. The silence became a living thing. Heavy. Almost breathing.

Maria and her family lived inside it. They had found a house two days after fleeing the city, an old farmhouse crouched beneath the weight of ivy and dust. The windows were boarded, the air smelled of wood rot and the curtains hung like flayed skin. Still, it offered shelter from whatever waited outside in the silence. In the center of the front room stood a couch, worn and sagging, as though it had been expecting them. It was the only place in the house that didn’t creak beneath their feet.

“We;ll stay here,” her father whispered and set down his pack. “Just until we hear something again.”

But no one heard anything again. At first, the stillness felt merciful. They slept without sirens and without the chaos of the city. Yet, the silence grew denser, pressing in on their eardrums. It felt like they were being buried alive in cotton. Maria thought she could hear a slight murmur underneath it, a slight vibration. When she asked her mother if she heard it too, her mother only shook her head and told her not to talk about it. Words, they said, might attract attention.

The first to disappear was her brother Eli. He had been sitting on the couch, his small frame half-swallowed by the cushions, staring toward the curtains, but there was nothing there except dust.

After that they spoke less and less. Days and nights blended into a single stretch of time, measured only by the dwindling supplies of canned foods. They tiptoed through the house, afraid of making noise, afraid of being noticed. Sometimes Maria thought she saw the curtains move, their folds trembled as if something behind them had exhaled.

Her mother vanished next. Maria woke in the night to see her sitting upright on the couch, eyes fixed on the curtains. The fabric stirred, a slow exhalation and her mother rose as if being pulled forward. She reached for the drapes, pressing her hand into them, then stepped through. There was no struggle, no screams, just the fabric falling back into place.

Her father changed after that. He sat in the armchair facing the couch, staring at the curtains barely blinking. The whites of his eyes turned dry and dull but he never looked away. Maria stopped trying to whisper to him. There was nothing left in his face that resembled thought or will, only the hollow, unbending patience of somebody waiting their turn.

One night she woke to see him standing in front of the curtains. His body swayed slightly like he was listening to music only he could hear. When she whispered his name, breaking the silence, her voice sounded like a sledgehammer. He turned slightly; a faint, cracked smile crept across his face. He reached out and pressed his palm against the fabric and it seemed to draw him in. The material rippled and his body followed. First his hand, then his arm and then everything else. He didn’t resist. The curtain fell silent again and Maria was alone.

She stayed that way for what seemed like forever. Days blurred together in a pale haze, broken only by the golden light that shone through the cracks in the boards. She sat on the couch where Eli had been, where her mother had slept and where her father had watched the curtains. Sometimes when the light hit just right, she thought she could see figures behind the fabric. A child’s small outline, a woman’s hair drifting upward, the broad shoulders of her father. They swayed gently, as if under water.

When the silence grew unbearable she whispered, “Who’s there?” Her voice cracked in the thick air. The curtain quivered. From behind it something began to take shape. A figure stepped forward, not solid but not smoke either. Just a distortion in the air that looked human. It had her height, her build. When she raised her hand, so did it. It moved when she moved, mirroring her in perfect silence.

Maria rose from the couch and stepped closer. The stillness deepened, every shadow leaning in. She touched the fabric. It was cold and damp, like a mouth; the moment she touched it something on the other side pulled her through. It was not violent, just inevitable.

The curtains fell silent again, the house seemed to exhale. Outside the world remained hushed and silent, waiting, as if nothing had happened.

Fiction © Copyright Kathleen McCluskey
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com 

More from Kathleen McCluskey:

The Long Fall: Book 1: The Inception of Horror

Lucifer always cunning and intelligent challenges father to a battle of wits. Being the angel of light he casts a judgemental eye upon mankind. He begins a war with his fellow archangels and God. Michael, along with his siblings defend their home and mankind from their deranged brother. Broad swords and hand to hand combat drench heaven in blood. The four apocalyptic steeds are released, each having their own destructive power. Betrayal and lust are at biblical levels. Understand the very creation of evil and the consequenses that transpire in the first of THE LONG FALL series.

Available on Amazon!