The Icebound Clocktower and Other Noise Inspired Stories

The Shelter from the Storm

Poltergeist, Distant Thunder, Fireplace

She could be standing in the fire and still feel cold.

Sitting cross-legged in front of a dusty stone fireplace with a rusty poker across her lap, a haggard young woman shivers and pulls her trenchcoat a little closer. It sits on her thin shoulders like a cape, and it's not quite dry enough to offer much help in keeping warm. Her long bangs dangle in her drooping eyes, her hair's still stiff with rain. She reaches a bruised, shaking hand out to the flames, trying to get some feeling back in her numb fingers. A burning log gives way, and a few sparks fly. She draws back hastily.

"Ouch..." She inspects her hand, rubbing the faint red mark. "Got a little too close..."

She tries to work up a smile just as thunder strikes down, rattling the whole house.

"...Jesus, place's flimsier than I am..." She scoffs. The cut on her lip stings when she talks, but it's nice to break the silence. "But 's better than--"

A door slams overhead.

Her grip goes to the poker and she jumps to her feet, feeling every other part of her pause and falter. She bites her tongue, every sense now tuned to the house.

Thunder rumbles, windows rattle, rain falls relentless, and there's a far off whistle of a very bad draft... She grits her teeth, trying to figure out if the creaking of the floorboards were the house settling or footsteps. Carefully, she slips on her coat and starts to make her way out of the room.

The hallway is peeling paint and rotten hardwood. There's a musty smell from it all, and broken things litter the ground. She looks around, peering through dirty windows for any sign of outside life. The house gives a long, weary rattle that makes her cringe, ducking down like the ceiling might just come down on her. There's something off about it now. It sounds like something's rolling around. She stares in the general direction of the noise with perplexed alarm as she steps past an open doorway. Someone stands inside, so still they're almost missed, but she spins on her heel to face...

A dilapidated bedroom.

An empty one, as well.

She blinks hard. What a time for seeing shapes in the shadows again. She picks up movement in the mirror as she turns to go... but that's probably just herself. Patches of skin buzz with nerves. Just focus on getting to the door, if anyone's inside they're up--

Bang!

Stairs...

She ducks into what used to be the kitchen just as someone comes barrelling down. If someone was looking for her they certainly weren't aiming for stealth. She crouches behind the counter. Whoever it was, they were coming her way. Something goes flying overhead, straight through the window over the sink. She shuts her eyes, forgetting about the poker in her hand, and draws her knees to her chest. Oh god oh god oh god...

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

If they're here, they're right on top of her.