Ba-Bump

Ba-Bump

The electricity is out. It’s dark. It’s very dark. My chest rises and falls, heavy, hard and fast. I can hear it pitter patter on the tiles. Plip. Plip. Plip. Plip. It feels funny. It tickles as it slides down my skin and it’s warm, but it sends a chill down my spine. I shiver. I’m uncomfortable. I’m alone.

The lights turn back on. The sound of the fans, computer, stove and microwave turning back on make me jump, but it’s nothing I can’t shrug off. I look to the left where the towel is hanging idly from the refrigerator and I grab for it. I need something to wipe my hands clean with. Wait. What if it leaves a stain? I can’t risk creating more evidence, can I? No. I let my hands fall back to my sides as I try to think of what to do. The kitchen sink! That’s it! I’ll wash my hands off there, and rinse it down the drain. Perhaps if I scrub hard enough, nothing will be left behind. I take a few steps to my right and turn on the water. I scrub my hands clean and then the sink. Now for the rest of the mess.

Where can I put it? If I bury it, it will just be dug up again. If I feed it to the dog, he will surely have an upset stomach and I’ll be discovered. If I—That’s it. I know exactly what to do.

I have a fantastic idea. I read this in a book once. Well, I didn’t read the entire book, but I got the main idea, and it’s a fantastic one. The main character was a mad genius for thinking up such an amazing idea! I love it, I love it, I LOVE IT. First, I will need a hammer and some nails. I’m pretty sure they are upstairs, so that’s where I’ll go.

The nails and hammer can’t hide from me, and finding them doesn’t prove too hard. Everything is in the hardware box in the upstairs closet. Mom and I rarely ever use it, so it’s pretty stationary. I can’t misplace anything, either. Mom might notice it and grow suspicious. We can’t be having that, now can we? Nope, not at all.

I head back downstairs, everything gathered up in my arms, and step into the kitchen. A hardwood floor. How fortunate am I to be living in a house where the kitchen floor is hardwood? Extremely. Now to pry each nail out of two floorboards and move them. If I break or scratch something, mom will surely notice, but I’m witty enough not to make a fool mistake like that. Hahaha! No one is as clever as I.

I glance over my shoulder. I can see the mess I made. The mess will be hard to clean, but for now, I need to focus on dumping it. So I drag it over and push it into the holes I created in the floor. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I pushed it in! And I stare at it. It’s horrible. What a grotesque sight. It smells horrible, too. My god, the smell of rotting—oh, nevermind. The deed is done, now to finish the job.

I quickly replace the floorboards. I stand up and head to the kitchen closet for the mop. All I need to do now is clean up the red spots and I’m home free. I grab the mop and soak it in the sink. I’m so clever, so smart. No one would ever think to look under the floor boards. No one. Not ever. I ring the mop out and begin to wipe up the floor. I feel so good that I even whistle while I work. There, all clean. No more spots on the floor. My God, this is full-proof.

With a content nod, I smirk and put the mop away. After a hard day’s work, I think I deserve to do what ever other self-respecting hard worker does: watch TV! I run to the living room and jump on the couch, grabbing the remote and turning it on in one fell swoop. Ahh, cartoons. I love cartoons.

I’m so smart, so ingenious. No one is smart the way I am. No one else could get away with this. It’s the perfect crime with the perfect clean up. But what if I left stains on the carpet? What if a floorboard is crooked? What if I left part of it outside of its proper hiding place? I look at the clock. It’s almost ten. Mom will be home shortly. Oh god, I’m gonna be found out.

I get up, and rush back to the kitchen, stumbling over my feet along the way. I’m going to be found out. I cannot be found out under any circumstances. No, that would ruin a perfect plan. I need to make sure everything’s clean. One-hundred and ten percent.

I grab the scrubby from under the sink and soak it in hot water. I need to scrub the carpet clean. I need to get all of the stains out. All of them. I scrub. And I scrub. And I scrub, and scrub, and scrub, and scrub, and scrub! My god the red won’t come out of the carpet. CLEAN UP, DAMNIT!

Thud! Oh god, I think that was the car door. I’m so busted, I’m going to get busted. I throw the scrubby back under the sink and lean against the counter. Mom walks into the kitchen.

“Hey dear,” she says. “How was your day?”

I tell her it was fine and smile.

“It’s late,” She comments, returning the grin. “A little after ten. Maybe you should sleep, you look a little pale.

Pale? Pale?! I wonder why I look pale! I’d say something if it wasn’t going to blow my cover! I’m better off just taking her advice, for now. It’s time to go to bed.

I head upstairs and lay down in my bed. I close my eyes. I don’t know how much time passes as I lay there in my own thoughts, but it feels like forever. She’s going to find me out. I’m going to get discovered. I can’t risk that. I need to finish the job.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Oh god, what’s that sound?

Tick. Tick. Tick.

It sounds like a timer.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

I sit up in bed, my heart in my throat. I look around, my eyes wide.

Tick.

I turn on the light.

Tick. Tick.

I look up.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Oh god, it’s just my clock. It says one in the morning. My god, a lot of time passed. I sigh in relief and lay back down in my bed, smiling. God, this is all just in my head. What am I so worried about? Nothing, absolutely nothing. I close my eyes

Ba-bump.

Hmm? What was that?

Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

That doesn’t sound like a clock to me. I look up at my clock.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

It’s not my clock. Oh god, could it be? No, that’s just sil—

Ba-bump!

I sit up again, eyes wide. My god what is that sound. It’s terrifying. It’s horrifying.

Ba-bump.

WHY ARE YOU HAUNTING ME?!

Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

I swing my legs over my bed. I need to go back downstairs. I need to know that it’s still there. I grab my flashlight and turn it on, heading back downstairs. I’m really quiet so I don’t wake up my mom, and I sneak into the kitchen. Even now, I’m so cunning it’s –

Ba-bump.

Stop it! Stop taunting me! That’s it, I can’t take this anymore. I run back upstairs. I need the hammer. I need to make this sound stop!

Ba-bump.

Where did I put the hammer?! WHERE DID I PUT IT?!

Ba-bump.

I dig through the box. No matter how much I move, how hard I throw things, nothing is louder than the beating I hear.

Ba-bump.

It’s horrible. It’s horrible. I need to make it stop once and for all! I find the hammer and grab it, and run back downstairs. I swear to god, I’ll make it stop if it’s the last thing I do. I run back downstairs, tripping over myself on the way and slide to a halt in the kitchen.

Ba-bump.

SHUT-UP! I can’t take this anymore! I slam the hammer into the floorboard. I don’t care how it looks by the time I am done with it! I will make this torture stop! I will make it stop!

Ba-bump.

I swing the hammer into the floor boards again!

Ba-bump.

And again!

Ba-bump.

AND AGAIN!

Ba-bump.

I reach inside. I WILL SILENCE YOU!

Ba-bump.

The electricity goes out. It’s dark. It’s very dark. My chest rises and falls, heavy, hard and fast. I can hear it pitter patter on the tiles. Plip. Plip. Plip. Plip. It feels funny. It tickles as it slides down my skin but this time it’s cold. It still sends a chill down my spine. I shiver. I’m uncomfortable. I’m alone.

The lights turn back on. The sound of the fans, computer, stove and microwave turning back on make me jump, but it’s nothing I can’t shrug off. I look to the left where the towel is hanging idly from the refrigerator but I don’t grab for it. I’m more interested in the shadow that sneaks up from behind me. I hear a voice.

“Are you okay?”

Mom? I turn around. She stares at me, worried, confused, and a little scared.

"Why is the lasagna I cooked last night in your hands and all over the floor?"

Busted.