I was sitting at my desk one late Friday evening.  I had to finish at least three more paragraphs in order to finish my quota for the day, but nothing was coming to mind.  I took a quick second to glance at my desk clock, a bland, round, black little thing.  It almost screamed at me that it was 10:43.  I poured a little water into my little spider plant, which found a nice home in it’s little square cyan pot.  The only other decorations on my desk were several pens and pencils, a rather large notepad, and my weary head.

Over the unrealistically seeming slow tick-tick of my little black clock, I could faintly hear something coming at me from a distance.  It was like no other sound I had ever heard.  It started off as a low hum, then escalated into a fast paced, high pitched whir, until, after a few seconds, it settled back into a low hum again.  The series of hums and whirs was getting ever louder; whatever it was that was making these noises was drawing near to me.

I knew this sound originated from the outside of my floor, but I could not see anything past the banner which had been strung up over mine and a few other residents windows.  The landlord didn’t put it up without asking our permission first, of course, but the view was nothing more than an almost eternally empty parking lot riddled with a dumpster here and there.

My apartment wasn’t what you would call fancy, I suppose.  I was one of about seven people who lived in this building.  The building was about in shambles, just barely passing the fire code.  This, of course, made it quite affordable.  Actually, I could barely afford this, but I just kept telling myself that if one, just one, of my stories becomes a hit, then I would be rich, and be able to afford nicer things.

The residents of the building were not much to look at either.  One lady, about in her forties, lived directly above me.  She had a little boy, about age eight.  However, his mother was rarely around; most likely at parties all night or something.  Even though she had barely gotten to know her son very well, she wasn’t entirely cruel, and paid for a babysitter, a young girl, about seventeen, to watch over her young boy for the night.  Over the past few years, I had gotten to know this babysitter very well, and we have become very good friends.

There was an older man, say, in his seventies, a few doors down from me, who did nothing but tell tales about his war days to anyone that would listen.  Every Friday, his grand-daughter would visit him to make sure he was okay.  I didn’t know her as well as the babysitter above me, but if we ever passed in the hall, we could get into some interesting conversations.  She herself was a writer, and told me that if I ever needed help brainstorming, just to give her a call.  I had considered calling her over for some help earlier, but for some reason I decided against it.

There is no one else worth mentioning really, except for Jayne, the girl across the hall from me.  She doesn’t know who I am at all, but if we pass in the hall we will say “hi”.  I always anonymously post my short stories at the end of my floor for anyone to read, as well as a sheet below it for people to comment on my story.  She is the only one who ever reads them and likes them.

Every story I put up on that ratty cork board, the next day I am sure to find a nice thing written right below it, as well as her signed name.  This is the only way I know her name is Jayne; by her signature.  And what a lovely signature it is.  Every time I close my eyes, I see her signature on the back of my eyelids.

My life had not been going too well, and I was very depressed.  None of my stories were catching on, I was almost out of money, and what little money I didhave was stolen by the “person who loved me most”.  My ex-girlfriend.

Things were going so wrongly for me, that I was actually starting to consider suicide.  I had a couple of cyanide tablets, which could easily kill any living thing, in my fridge; saved for the day when everything went so badly that I wouldn’t be able to pull out of it.

The only thing that really kept me alive was Jayne.

I closed my eyes, and gazed in the beauty of her handwriting.  I stayed like this for several seconds, and when I came back to my senses, I realized that the hum-whir sound I had heard earlier was much closer.

It was quite loud, actually.  Almost so loud that I had to cover my ears with my hands.  Then it stopped.  I didn’t know what had happened.  I didn’t know what this thing was that was making these weird noises.  The only thing I knew was that it wasn’t from around here, and that this thing was big.  Bigger than a car, a bus, even a train-engine.

Then it started up again.  I heard that low, spooky hum.  For some reason, that hum made me want to run.  Run as far as I could away from this… this thing, whatever it was.

Then came the whir.

I jumped out of the way just in time.  A blinding beam of light had broken through the wall, which was slowly disintegrating into a fine orange dust, before disappearing.  Part of my jacket had been touched as well, and the wall of orange disintegration was slowly headed up my jacket and towards me.  I quickly threw off my jacket.  Something told me that turning into a fine dust wasn’t the way I wanted to go.

The part of the wall that had held up a pin for the banner disintegrated, allowing the banner to fall down, revealing  something much worse than I had expected through the window.  The entire structure was dark black, but there were tubes, filled with a neon green liquid that pulsed almost as if it were connected to a heart, running to and fro over this massive machine.

The machine had no legs, but hovered about nine feet off of the ground.  Parts of the machine pulsed in the same way and timing as the liquid in the tubes, leading me to believe that this thing was either structured off of an organic compound, or it was an organic compound.  Either way, I could feel evil intent radiating off of this creature in waves.

Of course, since I could see this thing, it could see me as well, and four appendages of sorts, three claws on each “hand” at the end, unattached from the being and headed in my general direction.

But they didn’t break through my windows, lunging at me with malicious intent.  No, instead, they took a curve and headed to the room next to mine, across the hall.  Jayne’s room.  A few seconds later, screams sounded from her room, as the creature disturbed her sleeping.  The beast dragged her out of the building quite harshly; it obviously wasn’t going to keep her alive.  What seemed to me to be a mouth of sorts (most likely because there were rows of teeth) opened and was about to take a bite out of the one person I cared for most.

I didn’t even have time to ask myself what I was doing.  Before I knew it, I was at my fridge, grabbing all my cyanide.  But this wasn’t for me.  With a death-grip on this deadly poison I took a flying leap out of the ever-growing hole in my wall, and into the jaws of this strange creature.

Since the beast must be organic, then cyanide should kill it.  I had several tabs of this poison.  If it wouldn’t kill this, I didn’t know what would.  The last thing I saw before the jaws snapped shut was Jayne’s terrified, screaming, beautiful face, staring at me.

Then I knew no more.