The Big Bad Book of Prompts

Prompt 1- Snapping

  You yawn, stretching your arms as you work the notches out of them. It's been a long day-school, work, and you still have a essay to get through. Your eyes flick to your phone. Pressing the Home button, dim light reflects off your face as you take in your screen. 12:09 AM. You sigh, giving up on your goal of establishing a sleep schedule. Pounding away on your laptop, the time flies by, the loud clacking of the keyboard filling the room. 

  Periodically, the whirring of sirens, the honking of cars, and snippets of music join in, a symphony of sounds. The city was always alive, even at night. However annoying and troublesome it could be, there was a strange beauty in it ; a never ending cacophony of life, beginning and ending and living. It's a bit like a circle, you ponder. The circle of life would be an apt description. You can't help but giggle a bit at that. 

  Time passes, and you're finally at the end of your gods forsaken essay. You groan and stand, your back aching. Stretching, you once more check the time on your phone, exhausted. You'd take a nice, long rest after this-that is, if you had the time. You had class tomorrow as well...of course, you could just sleep during it. 

  You turn on your phone and squint a bit at it, the numbers blurring together. Blinking, you manage to fend off your weariness, making out the numbers slowly. 3:00 am on the dot. The witching hour. You yawn and step towards your bathroom, setting your phone back on the desk. Witching hour or not, you had a long day tomorrow, so it would be wise to get some rest. 

  You're brushing your teeth when you hear it. The snap of fingers, over and over again. You pause,  eyebrow raised as you listen. Eye's flit to the small window above your shower. Considering the fact that you were on the ground floor of the complex, you were a wit bee concerned with that-what would happen if anyone tried to peek in through there? You'd placed flower pots in front of it, but you'd had a few close calls. 

   Now though, the flower pots had disappeared. You sigh, heading over to the tub and peering in. The pots had fallen in the bathtub a few times before. Good thing they're plastic. You reach a hand in, expecting to find the familiar texture of green plastic...but you instead find nothing. Your eyebrows furrow as you look around the bathroom. Were they on the sink? No. Cabinet? Nada. 

    The snapping had returned, amplifying. It had gotten louder, loud enough that it seemed to be coming from right next to you. It was coming from right next to you.  

What happens next?