The sound of the alarm faded in and out as I drifted between sleep and awake. The heaviness in my eyelids told me that I hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep as I needed. I laid still in my bed until my brain managed to tell my body to roll over and turn the damn thing off. I opened my eyes to see if I could afford a snooze or two, but once I registered the red glow of the numbers I realized it was only one o’clock in the morning.
I had nearly five more hours to sleep.
Very funny, David, I thought to myself, knowing he was likely the one who changed my alarm. I reluctantly sat up to turn it off and set it for the correct time. But when I pushed the button it was already set at 6:15 am. In fact, my alarm clock wasn’t going off at all.
I sat up straight and made my ears alert in all directions. Now that I was awake, I could tell the sound I was hearing was not that of an alarm clock at all, it was an unfamiliar, ear piercing, high-pitched sound that faded in and out of a deep bass that was equally as vexing. I paused to analyze the direction of the sound, but I was unable to determine its origin; it was all around me. I crawled off my bed towards a window that faced the front of the house, and when I opened it the sound amplified tenfold. As the shrill sound slowly faded into the bass, it was almost bearable, but then the vibrations made their way violently through my body. It was as if I was standing mere inches from a concert amplifier, yet nothing else in my room appeared to be affected.
I closed the window, put on my robe, and opened my bedroom door, expecting a certain rush of family members in the hallway, but no one was there. As I passed the bedrooms of my parents and siblings, I leaned in to listen if they’ve awoken, too, but I hear nothing but the alarm.
I walk slowly down the stairs to the family room, guided only by the light seeping in through the kitchen windows. When my feet hit the carpet, I stop to survey the room. I realized that the darkness, even in the most familiar of places, always brings a feeling of uncertainty. I walked to the backdoor, checking the backyard for any curious sources for the alarm, but I see nothing. I turn around and make my way towards the front door, dragging my hand along the spindles of the stairs and then along the textured wallpaper for a sense of security.
When I get to the front door, I peek through the sidelight and scan the street from left to right. All seems right with the night until I spot Leah standing alone on her front porch across the street. Her dark hair and dark eyes are as still as the night around her as she stares blankly ahead. I decided to step outside to get a better view in the direction she was staring, but I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. We stood there for nearly five minutes, both in our pajamas; me looking at her, her looking wherever, the alarm relentless. I was not convinced that she even noticed my presence until her head quickly whipped in my direction. Her body seemed to relax the moment she saw me, and she waved for me to go back inside in a strong desperation. She returned her focus straight ahead for a brief moment before she turned and ran inside, her bare feet slapping the on wood porch. After her dramatic exit from the porch, she closed the front door slowly, with painstaking care. I dashed inside and did exactly the same. As soon as I locked the deadbolt, the alarm ceased, leaving the vibrations through my body as the only proof, until that stopped too.
I made no particular effort to keep quiet on my way back to bed, figuring that if the alarm hadn’t woke my parents or siblings, nothing would. I closed my bedroom door behind me, walked to the window, and with a perfect view of Leah’s porch, I stared at it, waiting for any clues to the sound. After a minute I gave up and crawled back in bed. Moments later my mother opened my bedroom door and peeked in just as I brought the covers to my face.
“Everything alright?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I replied.
She was silent for a moment.
“I thought I heard you up, that’s all,” she said.
“I thought I heard a noise, I just went to investigate.”
“Hmmph,” she replied, questioningly.
And I was left with the impression that she heard nothing at all.
That morning I woke up to my real alarm and I got ready for school just like any other day, parked in my usual spot, and sat in my usual first period seat. I impatiently waited for Leah to arrive, and sit in her seat next to me as she always did, but she never came. I brought the sound up subtly to some friends during lunch,
“Hey, did you hear anything strange outside last night, around one a.m.?” I asked.
But no one did.
Weeks passed and Leah never returned to school, in fact, I never saw anyone at her house again until a For Sale sign was pounded into the front lawn. I may never know what happened to Leah, but one thing I am certain of: she heard the alarm, too.
