The Force

I stand before the bathroom door, fingers turning the lock, the handle. Edging open, a force pushing from the other side. I push back on the polished wood, against the unspoken energy. 

I imagine it standing on the other side, bracing delicately. Was it turning the knob now, resisting ever so slightly?

I nudge the door, then yank it open. Nothing. It was a mere thought, a scary notion on a frantic mind. Time to get back to sleep, no more water before bedtime. 

An unnerving sensation goosebumps my skin. The time reads 3:10AM. Witching hour. 

The hall slowly encloses, ceiling creeping down. A shadow moves within the window. 

Then the thick air becomes breathable and everything seems to fall around me, as though coming instantly out of a vacuum, crashing silently to the floor. 

And things are back to normal once again. 


William Marchese


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