Sam awoke from his sound sleep with a gulp of his own saliva to his pet dog's fierce bark. He got out of his chair while still half asleep and began to search his room, not knowing how he had gotten there in the first place. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to wake up sufficiently to go to his kitchen and get himself something to drink, thinking to himself, "I must have fallen asleep while watching the program of some, uh, flowers?" He moved towards the TV, which was still on but had no channels, just blurry bars, and lines, after rubbing his eyes for what felt like a solid minute.

He tried switching channels, but it was ineffective; the blurry bars and lines were present on every channel. When he realized this, he just gave up watching TV and began searching for his slip-on sandals so that he could enter his kitchen and prepare a hot beverage. He muttered to himself, "Where did I keep them?" as he reached beneath the TV table to look for his sandals. He noticed something while trying to dig deeper under the table that had nothing to do with his sandal but was enough to cause him to bang his head there.

He was surprised by a swarm of mice, who had virtually made the place their beautiful home.

He continued to groan in pain as he observed the hay bales and discarded newspapers that the mice had gathered under his table. He screamed to himself, stroking the lump that the illegal immigrants had just given him, "I need to buy the rat glue for these fucking rascals before they multiply like crazy!" He searched every inch of the space under the table, scaring away any illegal immigrants like the Americans, but he still couldn't locate his sandals. So he ditched his sandals and went barefoot to his kitchen, with a lump on his head.

After entering the kitchen, he went to his water heater and began heating some water to make himself some coffee. He looked at the clock in his kitchen while waiting for the water to boil and thought to himself, "Huh, 3 a.m...." It is better to stay awake for the morning shift." Just as he was thinking about it, he remembered that his dog had been barking since he awoke. It was strange because he was generally a quiet, shy, and kind dog who would wag his tail even for burglars who came to his house.

He approached the door leading to his backyard and began yelling at his dog to stop barking. "Stop barking, CHARLIE BOI!"

However, the dog refused to quit barking. He went outside to his backyard and made his way toward his dog, who was still barking near the fence dividing his house from his neighbor's. He didn't want to get his feet dirty because he didn't have sandals, but he was still annoyed by the dog's constant barking. "Hey Charlie boy, what are you so religiously barking at?" he remarked, picking him up. The dog continued to wag his tail but did not stop barking. He took him back to his house because he was tired of the barking, but as soon as he set him down, the dog squeezed his way out from between his legs and resumed his barking.

"What the fuck is wrong with this dog?" "What did he find or see?" "A stray cat?" "Or a thief?"

He went to his window to see what Charlie was barking at because he was now feeling a little concerned. He followed his dog's nose and discovered that his dog was barking at his neighbor Roy's house.

"Why is he barking at his house?" "Is Roy playing a trick on him?"

"But wait, Roy had actually gone to his parent's house with his wife." "Didn't he?" "Did they come back?"

He then made an effort to see whether anyone was at Roy's house.

He looked through the windows of his house and discovered that every room was black with the lights turned off, save for what appeared to be Roy's room. The room was lit by what appeared to be candlelight, and he could make out a silhouette of a person on the window screen. He returned to his boiling water, relieved that there was someone at his house who was most likely Roy.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

With the first whistle of his water boiler, the water began to boil. He retrieved the expensive coffee he had saved for his visitor and brewed some for himself. Now that the coffee was ready, he returned to his television room and sat down to watch television.

He didn't mind that only the news channels appeared to have returned, and he started watching some early morning news.

He was still a little uneasy about Roy's residence as he sipped his specialty coffee and watched the news. "Is that really Roy?" he kept asking himself.

After drinking the coffee but still feeling uneasy, he got up, went to the phone by the window, and made a call to Roy's residence to make sure it was really him.

The phone rang once, twice, and three times.

However, the fourth time, the line simply went out dead, dead with a garbled screeching sound after ringing for around thirty seconds. He made another attempt to reach him, but the call simply could not be made.

The light abruptly went out, and there was a blackout that lasted for about five seconds while he attempted to call him one last time.

His spine experienced an instant cold; he immediately experienced goosebumps and could feel his fine hair rising up while applauding for each other.

His dog starts to whine in terror all of a sudden. He immediately glances out the window for his dog but is unable to see him; yet, he can still hear the dog's whining. It appeared as though his dog had suddenly become invisible and could now only hear his voice. He kept an eye out for his dog and glanced across to see if anything had changed at his neighbor's house. But to his amazement, everything was completely dark.

There wasn't a single ray of light in the entire neighborhood, which seemed completely dark. Even the light from Roy's house vanished, along with any traces of the silhouette he had earlier seen. The entire neighborhood seems to have just been overcome by an unsettling mist.

He then took his tiny torch out of the kitchen drawer and went outside to the backyard to look for his dog, using only his voice as a guide. While looking for his dog in pitch black, he moved. He eventually ended up inside the aging shed in his garden. He peered through the gaps between the heaps of trash and old furniture that had been gathered inside the old shed for years, using the light from his torch.

Charlie was coiled up and still whining in fear between two old chairs. He felt an odd sensation behind him as he attempted to pull him up. Someone was standing behind him; he could feel it. More whining from the dog ensued. With his torch in hand, he quickly whirled around, but nothing was there. But the unsettling feeling persisted, and as events continued, he began to feel afraid. He grabbed his dog and took off running for his house. With his dog, he successfully made it home. But Charlie was still trembling and whining in terror, and there was another problem: he wasn't the only one. Sam could hear someone whining in pain from the top floor.

With each footstep that passed, he could hear the woods squeaking. The creaking and whining became louder and louder and closer and closer. Right in front of the steps that led from the top floor to the lower level, Sam was standing. He heard the top floor's door squeak open. Heavy footsteps with a thump could be heard. Sam's skin tone matched the white curtains behind him. He was unable to speak or move a single muscle. Charlie crawled towards him as they were both terrified. With his heart racing faster than ever, he suddenly remembered what the previous owner had told him before selling the house to him.

The home was actually constructed over an old, buried graveyard. The footsteps were getting closer by the second. He turned to face the stairwell's entrance. Suddenly, he felt a chilly hand resting on his shoulder. He attempted to flee by running towards the door with all of his remaining strength and without even turning around, but his legs just gave up, and he tripped as he approached the door. He could hear and feel the steady footsteps approaching as he extended his hand to open the door. Despite his best efforts, he was unable to open the door. The footsteps stopped, and an unsettling sensation of a hand reaching out to touch him could be felt. He could feel the hand coming towards him.

The doors suddenly opened, seemingly by magic, and he slid down with a loud thud.

He opens his eyes abruptly, his brows dripping with cold sweat.

I wonder, "Where am I?"

"What was all of that?"

He asked himself as he awoke in front of the hazy bars and lines on the television, "Was it all just a dream?" He suddenly hears his dog barking and the time changing to 3 a.m., turning pale and perspiring, with an increasing heartbeat with each passing second. A knock he hears.