They speak at night.

Some time after twelve, once everyone in the house has gone to bed the voices of these creatures fill my room.

I call them creatures, but often they sound like humans. Other times they sound horribly disfigured: high-pitched to the point of a screech, low-pitched—lower than the bowels of hell. They almost sound like the dialogue of fictitious beasts from some horrid… I’m not sure.

Some nights I hear several different variations of the creatures. Those nights are the worst.

I hear them tell tales of horror. I hear them joke. I hear them fuck; moaning and grunting. And I hear them yammer on relentlessly occasionally about random subjects.

Truly the dead make themselves heard in this house after dark.

BUT IN THE MORNING all is well. I hug my wife, and my son, and I go off on my day. At first I contemplate the previous night, before shrugging it off, and carrying on.

I only really remember the horrors I must face after I’ve laid down, about an hour after I’ve laid down—when I hear them again.

Right now, however is different… the voices are relentless, and ghastly! It’s as if a demon is speaking directly too me! I can hear it talk about the asylum from whence it came—forced there by a faulty 50’s Healthcare system.

These voices must be stopped!

I get out of bed, and finally face them! I open my door, and with the shield gone they grow louder!

I walk down the stairs… one, two, three, four, five steps. As my feet descend the voices ascend to the heavens! Or, maybe they’re screaming to hell—a cabal of disembodied devil worshipers hoping to please their horned god–possibly they’re even screaming from hell in an attempt to torture the living out of spite.

Finally I reach the end of the staircase. I hear the voices… I look around… they’re coming from the right!

I run! I run! Louder, and louder!… my son’s room! Directly under mine, they’re in his room!

Are they Torturing him? Have they been doing so for months? Never mind that, I need to save him!

I rush to his door, and I fling it open!

And there he is; sitting in the darkness with an eerie light painting his face. I ask him: “Son, are you okay?”

And with a mischievous smile across his face he replied, “Yeah, I’m just watching YouTube”

“But I put you to bed over an hour ago?”

“Yeah”, he giggled playfully, “I guess you caught me. Whats you seem scared?”

“The sound…”

With that said he grew terrified, and replied: “Wait a second, can you hear me from up there!?”

I shut the door, and walked away swiftly sharing his own embarrassment.