Thud. Thud. Thud. By Olivia Salter | Horror | Short Fiction

 

Thud. Thud. Thud.

By Olivia Salter

Word Count: 1, 165

It started innocently enough. I’d visit the old man like I always did, sometimes bringing his groceries or just sitting by his bed, listening to him recount stories from a life long gone. His place was a bit rundown, smelling faintly of mildew and old books, but it was homey in a way that made me comfortable. He was comfortable, too—at least, I thought he was. Until that eye.

The first time I noticed it, I tried to ignore it. It was just a cataract, right? A perfectly normal thing for a man his age. But every time I looked at him, that eye—the milky blue one—seemed to fix itself on me, even when he wasn’t talking or paying me any attention. It didn’t blink like his other eye. It stayed open, watching. Always watching.

One evening, as he told me a story about his late wife, I found myself staring at it, that pale, lifeless thing. I felt my heart rate spike for no reason. My hand trembled slightly as I adjusted the chair under me. The room felt smaller, the air thicker. I could barely hear his words over the thumping of my own pulse in my ears.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice wheezy from years of chain-smoking.

I blinked, pulling my eyes away from his. “Yeah, fine. Just tired.” I stood up, grabbing my coat from the back of the chair. “I should probably get going.”

He nodded and gave me a weak smile. “See you tomorrow, then?”

I nodded, but I couldn’t look at him again. Not at that eye.

***

Over the next few days, something in me shifted. It wasn’t that I disliked him—he was a kind man, frail but gentle. But whenever I saw him, all I could think about was that eye. That eye saw things it shouldn’t. It saw through me, into places I didn’t want it to go. When I left his apartment, it would follow me. Even in the safety of my own room, I couldn’t escape it. I’d lie in bed at night, feeling its cold, pale gaze on the back of my neck.

It was irrational, I knew that. But that didn’t make it any less real to me.

The idea came gradually, so gradually that it seemed like it had always been there. What if... what if I could make it stop? What if I didn’t have to see it anymore? The thought of killing him came not as a shocking revelation but as a natural solution to a problem I couldn’t otherwise solve. Once I got rid of the eye, I could breathe again. I could sleep.

***

I started planning. Every night at midnight, I’d creep into his apartment. The old man never locked his door—he trusted me completely. I was careful, though. I’d slip into his room as quietly as possible, using only the dim light from my phone. His breathing was always slow, steady. I didn’t care about him, just the eye. But every night, it would be closed, leaving me standing there like an idiot, waiting for it to open so I could act.

One night, I stood over him longer than usual, my breath catching in my throat. What was I doing? Was this really about the eye, or was it something else? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I had to finish what I’d started.

On the eighth night, everything fell into place.

I was careful as ever, but this time, when I slipped the door open, I felt a different kind of energy in the air. My hands weren’t shaking anymore. I was calm, steady, and focused. As I crept into the room, the floorboards didn’t creak beneath me like they had on previous nights. The darkness felt like an ally, wrapping me in its comforting embrace. He was sleeping—just as always—but something was different. His breathing was shallow, and as I neared the bed, I saw it. The eye. Wide open, staring at me.

My heart slammed against my ribs as I locked eyes with it. It wasn’t just an eye anymore; it was something more sinister, something that had seen too much. I knew, in that moment, that it had to end. I wasn’t just killing him—I was freeing myself.

I reached down with trembling hands, grabbed the pillow from beneath his head, and pressed it over his face. His body jerked beneath me, weak but desperate. He gasped, his arms flailing. I felt the wild beating of his heart as I held him down, my hands steady now, my mind clear. The sound of his heartbeat echoed in my ears, growing louder with each second.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Even as his movements slowed, the heartbeat didn’t. It pounded against my skull, refusing to stop. I pressed harder, but the sound only grew louder, more frantic. It was like it was mocking me, reminding me that I couldn’t escape it.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Finally, he went still. I lifted the pillow and stared at him. The eye was closed. I smiled—finally, peace. But the heartbeat remained, low and persistent.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

***

I worked quickly, pulling up the floorboards and hiding the body beneath. I wiped down the room, cleaned up every trace. When I was done, I stood back, satisfied. No one would ever know. I replaced the boards, careful to leave no signs of what I had done. But that sound... it wouldn’t stop.

A knock on the door startled me. I froze. The heartbeat was deafening now, but I forced myself to stay calm. I opened the door to find two police officers standing there.

“Sorry to bother you,” one of them said. “A neighbor reported a scream.”

I smiled—cool, collected. “Oh, that was me. Bad dream. The old man’s out of town.”

They asked to come in, and I let them. We went through the motions—checking rooms, casual conversation—but I couldn’t focus. The thudding in my head was unbearable now. How could they not hear it?

Thud. Thud. Thud.

We ended up in his room, and they seemed satisfied with my story. I invited them to sit, hoping they’d leave soon. I sat down too, right above where I’d hidden him. But the sound kept getting louder, faster. I clenched my fists, trying to act normal, but it was no use.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Do you hear that?” I blurted out, my voice shaking.

One of the officers raised an eyebrow. “Hear what?”

The heartbeat. It was all I could hear. It was all there was.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

I jumped to my feet, pacing the room. “You must hear it! You must!”

They exchanged glances. The room was spinning now, my chest tight. I couldn’t take it anymore. With a scream, I ripped up the floorboards, exposing the body.

“There! There it is! Make it stop!”

Thud. Thud. Thud.

But the heartbeat didn’t stop.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

It never will.