. . . Crackle
My eyes opened in a panic . . .
. . . At least, I thought they did. Maybe I was dreaming? The bed, the blankets, all were warm and inviting. I was in my room, laying on the mattress, face pointed towards the ceiling. If they were open, my eyes didn’t see anything. Strangely, my mind was wide awake. Inside the little place where the third eye nested was a warm, orange light; it was soft, dim. There was nothing strange in that, but something else bothered me . . .
. . . Crackle . . .
. . . Yes. That sound, like static in my ears. White noise . . .
My blood ran cold. The warm light faded into an abysmal void. Not darkness. Not anything.
. . . And the crackling that echoed within it.
Blood cold, my body shivering, my heart beating a frantic tattoo within my chest, I made to call out as something began to nudge me off the bed. There was no sound. My lips would not move. Could not move . . .
. . . Crackle . . . White noise droning on . . . The echoing void . . .