My front door is open, and I can’t get up to close it

The sound of my front door is distinct, you couldn’t mistake it for any other sound in my house. The door, frame and latch were all metal. It made an awful click, scrape and slam every time you opened and then closed it, so loud and sharp you could hear it over anything. So when I rolled over in the dead of the night to face a wall of mirrored cabinets and I heard my front door I couldn’t feel my limbs. A dread I didn’t know before weighed down my chest. I couldn’t pick it up to breathe again.

From where I was laying my view on the door was obscured, a fraction of it reflected in the mirror that peaked through the bathroom. I’d have to roll over or crawl to the other end of the bed to actually see down the hallway but I knew that if I moved, somehow it’d know. I could hear the door swing so far open it hit the wall and began to swing shut again, the stairs groaned as someone hefted up one, then the second, the last and then finally into my front room. The wood made the last step sound hollow, like suddenly the only lightly touched the ground. Testing the waters before fully stepping in, like i was something it should be weary of. I know something is in my home. I hear them shuffling in place, the wind picking up outside is overwhelmingly loud now from the still open door but I don’t see them. Despite the view being obscured I should still be able to see something, at the very least a glimpse of outside from an open doorway but my mirrors lie to me. They show everything as it’s always been, how it should still be. Not how I know it is.

It is still there, I can’t see it and I’m beginning to lose the sound of it in the noise of everything else, like I’m forgetting it, but I know it didn’t leave because now I can smell it. A pungent oily smell like dead skin that’s gone cold. It’s familiar in a way that makes my stomach roll. I know it well and I hate that because I know that whatever is out there is not familiar. I fear I might be suffocate now, trying to betray instincts and only breath when my body cramps with the need to live. I can’t tell if it’s getting stronger, with every intake of air I relearn that awful taste and it feels just as heavy each time.

My beginning to feel stuffy, I think I might pass out. My phone doesn’t seem to be lighting anything up, and I know I shouldn’t turn it on so that it can’t see me but If you get a chance to read this and I’m aware long enough after writing to post, please close my front door or my cat’s will get out. Just make sure you hear it latch shut all the way.