At that moment, the telephone in the living room began to ring.
He bolted upright, instantly awake. Grudgingly, he rolled over, pushing himself up off the bed onto the floor. He made his way back to the living room, to the west wall where the phone hung. He took the handset up from its cradle and brought it to his ear.
"Hello?" he inquired. "It's kind of late, so whatever you want, please just make it -"
"Ten little monkeys jumping on the bed. One fell off and bumped his head. The momma called the doctor, and the doctor said: 'No more monkeys jumping on the bed'".
There was a click, and the line went dead.
His eyebrows contorted with confusion. "What? Are you still there?"
No answer.
With a shake of the head, he replaced the receiver, then turned to make his way back to the bedroom. As he passed through the doorway, the telephone began ringing again. He turned and hurried back, picking the phone up with a flash of movement.
"Yes? If this is you again, what the hell is it?"
The raspy voice answered in reply: "Nine little monkeys jumping on the bed. One fell off and bumped his head. The momma called the doctor, and the doctor said: "No more monkeys jumping on the bed'".
Click.
Aaren hung up. The ringing began again instantly. He snatched the handset back with rage.
"Look here, asshole!" he spat angrily. "Cut the bullshit out! I'm -"
"Eight little monkeys jumping on the bed. One fell off and bumped his head. The momma called the doctor, and the doctor said: 'No more monkeys jumping on the bed'".
Aaren's heatbeat began to race with distress. "Cut it out, motherfucker. Don't think I won't call the police, 'cause I will, goddammit!"
"Ten kilometres in all. Three down, seven to go", the eldritch voice dripped with malice and dark glee. "I'm coming for you, asshole - don't think that I won't. I'll be there soon".
The line went dead once again, and that's when Aaren went to action, punching 911 into the machine. He waited a number of seconds as it rang, then there was a click as someone picked up from the other end.
"Hello," a pleasant female voice announced. ""911 emergency services. How may I help you?"
Aaren quickly summarized his problem to the dispatcher.
"You're sure this is an emergency, sir?" she questioned.
"I think so, yeah," Aaren declared. "I'm sure, anyway. It sounds like he's coming here. The son of a bitch's dangerous!
"Your name and address?"
"Aaren Heptesz. 1308 King Street".
"Okay, Mr. Heptesz," she proclaimed. "I'll send an officer out to your home. He'll drive by your neighbourhood, check things out, see if anything's amiss, probably check up on you. He'll be there in about twenty minutes. Is that okay?"
"Yeah, sure".
"Do you want to stay with me on the line until he arrives, or will you be fine?"
"No, that's okay," Aaren said. "I'll be fine. Thanks anyway.
With that, he hung up, placing the receiver back in its cradle. It began to ring. He retrieved it.
"Seven little monkeys jumping on the bed. One fell off and bumped his head. The momma called the doctor, and the doctor said: 'No more monkeys jumping on the bed'".
The caller hung up. At that moment, Aaren wished he had stayed on the line with the female dispatcher; her voice, so maternal and soothing, had been so calming.
He grew stiff there as he waited, fear encircling his heart, causing his muscles to stiffen and cold sweat to roll down his back. He shambled over to his recliner and collapsed in a heap into it, but the anxiety wouldn't leave him. He called haltingly for Cornelio, but the cat was elsewhere. Aaren became petrified; the shadows of the dark house grew oppressive, pressing down on him, making it impossible to do anything - turn on the lights, search for his pet, anything. When the angst grew too powerful to tolerate, he escaped by collapsing into a fitful sleep. Yet even then he could not truly escape, for in his slumber he could still hear the far-off ringing of a telephone; whether those incessant rings issued from the living room phone or his own fevered dreams was impossible to discern, and completely irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.