The rhythmic clatter began precisely at midnight.

Always precise.

I would lie awake, listening as it moved closer,
a deliberate, heavy dragging sound.

03
04
05

It started far off, in the lower levels,

then slowly ascended, floor by floor.

Sometimes it would pause,

a scraping silence,
before resuming its relentless climb.

Each pause was a moment of dread, wondering if it would stop on my floor tonight.

The thought made my breath hitch.

I always kept my door locked, double-checking the deadbolt before retreating to bed.

No one else seemed to notice.

Or perhaps, no one else cared to admit they did.

© 2026 David Evdoshchenko