Tom kept tossing and turning in his bed, unable to calm his stream of thoughts. Yet there seemed to be an eerie stillness about the room that night.
Half giving up and half hoping to drift off, he lay face up, his eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling.
The stillness was almost suffocating now.
Amongst the wind picking up in the darkness, a mumbling seemed to drift through the window. It was impossible to make out the words but it was unmistakably a man’s voice.
Tom hoisted himself up, sat on the side of the bed, and gazed upon the window. The mumbling had gone. This time with haste and the creaking of bones he lifted himself from the bed, and parted the curtains, revealing the empty pathway between university dorms.
Resigning himself to the frustration, Tom lay down again. Except now it spoke with clarity:
“Thomas… Thomas”.
Flash Fiction 