I awoke to a loud bang on a door.

The sudden noise almost jolted me out of my bed. I composed myself quickly and regained control of my breathing. Long, quiet, composed breaths. Silently, I arose from the bed and scanned the room. It was pitch black. The only light in the room came from the window where the pale light from the moon was shining in. Thankfully, I was alone in my home.

Against my instincts, I slowly slid on the wall towards the window. I needed to know where the sound came from. I peered around the edge of the wall where the window was placed. Looking outside I could see the source of the sound, as well as the unfortunate circumstances that led to the noise being made.

Across the street, in the upstairs room, I could see a faint light from a candle. The damn fool across the street. He knew the ritual as well as I did. Once the sun goes down, there must be no light… NO LIGHT. Any light source, any sound, any movement would draw them out. That faint candlelight may have well been a bonfire on his roof. They must have seen it, which means they were here.

Sure enough, I could see them in front of the door. Hooded figures completely draped in darkness, inhumanly tall shadows. The saying amongst the neighborhood was that if you saw them, you were dead. I immediately backed away from the window and silently snuck back to my bed. There was nothing I could do; there was nothing anyone could do at this point. The fool across the street was done for.

The fool had two choices he could make: either he could answer the door and accept his demise gracefully, or he could foolishly try to stay and fight. Staying and fighting was always the wrong choice, staying and fighting would wake up others and put them at risk of alerting them. I waited and listened to what he would decide. Seconds passed like hours. Disbelief and fear began to overtake me. He wouldn’t try to fight… would he?

The answer to my question was answered by the sound of wood shattering. They had grown impatient and made his choice for him. The silence that filled the air cooled the blood in my veins. A quiet creaking of wood is all that could be heard. They were ascending the main staircase in their death march. The creaking of the stairs acted as my neighbor’s dirge. It wouldn’t be long now. I knew I had to steel myself for what came next. Any noise or sudden movement from me would mean my own demise.

Suddenly, the silence was filled with a blood chilling scream of agony. They had found my neighbor. A chorus of crashes and breaking glass then complemented the screaming. In an instant the crashes subsided, and all that was left was the pained yelps and screams of my neighbor. Slowly, the screams were replaced by groans, then then all sounds ceased. For an uncomfortable moment, the silence returned. It was as if nothing had happened. The silence, the pale moonlight, all as before the bang.

Then, the dirge of creaking stairs began again. Slowly, they began descending the stairs. The noise contrasted the silence so much, that I could tell almost what step they were on. Then, all at once, the creaking ceased as well. They had completed their task. The eerie silence had returned. There would be a moment of remembrance tomorrow morning. By now, everyone who had maintained the evening ritual had been awoken by the screams and was doing their best to remain as calm and silent as possible to avoid alerting them.

Slowly but surely, my heart had calmed itself and I regained my composure. There would be work to do tomorrow. Remembrance, memorial, lessons to be harshly learned, and of course the evening ritual. I looked up to my ceiling, scanned the room in the pale moonlight, and began to drift off to sleep.

And then there was a loud bang at my door.