Short Story: The Last Sound You Make

It is the noise I hear at night. The howl behind my window. I get up to look around. I am greeted with ugly yellow lights and the still streets. I go back to bed.

Of course, you do not see me. I scratch your window again, letting out my moan. This time you pull the covers over your head.

I cannot sleep. My nerves are thinning. That I am sure of. As long as I acknowledge that, I am fine. Or so I think in this state when the tick of the clock is slipping to the side of dawn.

You toss and turn. I fear it is my fault. I would go away if that was in my nature. Here I stay behind your window. I let out another gurgle as I was built for.

“Leave me alone.” I toss a pillow against the window. I quickly pull the covers back over my head. A scream wants to come out, yet I smother it for the sake of my neighbors.

It always starts with a pillow and ends me looking down at your corpse. How I wish this could go differently. In the dreams of mine, I am not who I am. Not a torment in the last hours, but a harbinger of good news.

I can feel my agony turning into a sob. How can life be so cruel? All I want to do is sleep. To be fresh, to face my doctors. No cry comes out. My body convulses. I ride the wave like a muted passenger.

There we go. Your twisted body welcomes me in. I have been here with you night after night. Now you let me in. I push the window open and step in. You notice me not.

Please, let me be to see another day. Is it too much to ask for?

No, it is not. Yet, I do not make mistakes.

Now I see you. One more day to live to my fullest, I beg of you.

You now see me. If I could, I would let you have what you desire. All I can do is to howl when you are gone.

Why? I want to ask more, but my body convulses again. The eyes flutter. I bit my tongue. My muscles tense up. I gurgle, and then there is a release.

Because who I am. A banshee, the last sound you hear as you give. I howl, and now you are gone. I lower down and close your eyes.

Thank you for reading! Have a great day ❤

P.S. I had fun testing a dialogue in a first-person story where both have a voice.

© K.A. Ashcomb