Silence.
Silence was unusual in the dead of night. There was no wind rustling through the trees outside his window. There was no creak or moan of a settling house. There was no pitter patter of notcurnal hunters seeking their prey. There was not even the endless repition of ticks and tocks as the grandfather clock counted the seconds to oblivion. There was but silence.
It was a stifling silence, pushing down on him through the thick comforter that was intended to act as the barrier between him and the wintry night. It pushed down on him and made him feel as though any noise he made would be lost before it reached his own ears. The silence encompassed him.
He struggled to turn over, and found sitting up to be a chore. The silence made his vision hazy. He could make out no details of the room so familiar to him. He tried to focus on the antique grandfather clock that made no ticks and made no tocks. The time would not reveal itself to him, nor the usual sway of the pendulum housed within.
A black mist swirled into existence slowly in front of him. His heartbeat quickened as he transitioned from befuddlement to fear. As the mist gathered and began to coalesce into a roughly human shape, he began to sweat. The hair on his arms stood on end. He could no longer move. He was transfixed by the apparition taking shape before him. With a suddenness that startled him, the ghostly black shape flew at him. Even though he could not hear himself, he screamed.