Anguish In The Night

I am deeply engrossed in my novel in my bedroom when all of a sudden, I hear a woman’s screams. Normally, I would ignore such ruckus but how do you do that at one in the morning?

The screams sound as though their owner has discovered something terrible and she is screaming to coat her denial or screaming to avoid dealing with whatever it is she has discovered. It is not just a scream, it sounds like shrieks of desperation. It is not a bloodcurdling type of scream; she is yelling something as she is screaming.

Interest piqued, I stand by my bedroom balcony to try to catch what it is that’s going on probably only a few doors away from my house. Dark windows and shadows from across unoccupied neighbours’ houses stare back at me. The screams can’t be coming from the empty houses, I know. It is not a ghostly scream. The screams sound like a woman in anguish, not a woman abused.

I stand for a while more, and the screams continue, albeit softer than the initial shrieks. I turn away because if I was out in the street in front, I’d see myself and I’d wonder why I’m standing at the door, looking out with my head tilted to the side. I don’t want anyone who may be walking in the streets to see me listening.

I go back to my book. The screams slowly subside. I don’t know what they were about. It is the first time I’ve heard screams in the neighborhood. I hope the neighbours have settled whatever it is that brought the screams on.