I hear ya, Creepster Katherine and I second that post,
as this is a short I wrote years ago to confirm the theory.
Wind chimes = bad mojo.
Dead Stare
The wind chime clung to its hook on the side of the small porch.
She could hear its metal pipes knocking together, assuring her that the storm was getting close now. Its din carried on the wind, through the open window, and to her ear ~ only the right ear. Her left one was buried in the mattress.
The ceiling fan spun above her; its melodic hum ~ almost calming ~ soothed her, as she lay immobile. She could feel her heart flutter and her muscles tighten. Her body shook and grew incredibly cold. From her mouth, she choked out small puffs of air ~ like an iron huffing steam.
Her eyes, glassy and bloodshot, stared straight ahead.
Whatever had done this to her, walked past her line of vision again. Its exoskeleton, just inches away, radiated a horrendous stench and her last hope was that it wouldn't be the last thing she had to see.
Just then, the wind chime rang again.
~ by: Deevious ~
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