11:47

11:47

(Sound: Total silence, broken by the sharp, steady ticking of a wall clock. A cold, synthetic wind drone slowly swells in the background. A phone vibrates twice against wood, vibrating the low sub-bass.)

(Vocal - close-mic whisper)

Eleven forty-seven on the digital screen.

The kind of quiet that makes a house feel lean.

The phone lights up, cutting through the gloom...

A dead woman’s name sitting in the room.

(Sound: A sparse, dark acoustic guitar pattern begins, plucking a slow melody. The clock ticking remains perfectly on beat.)

Thumb on the glass, heart against the chest,

Three years buried in a satin vest.

I picked it up just to hear the air,

Nothing but the static crying everywhere.

Then her voice broke through the freezing wire,

Spoke my name like a spark in the pyre.

"Danny, get your keys, leave the walls behind,

Go out the back, don’t look up where the stairways wind."

(Sound: A heavy, deep sub-bass pulse drops. The percussion enters—a slow, echoing stomp that sounds like a footstep on wood.)

Static on the line, static in the head,

Receiving phone calls from the tomorrow dead.

Watch the staircase, listen to the floor,

Somebody’s walking through the midnight door.

Ha, ho, hum, hi...

Look the shadow right in the eye.

(Sound: The acoustic guitar drops out, leaving only the pulsing sub-bass and the heavy footstep stomps. The atmosphere gets tighter.)

Then came the creak from the hallway floor,

A phantom weight by the bedroom door.

A voice floated down through the pitch-black space,

Sounded like my mouth, sounded like my face.

Same little crack when it called my name,

Playing a cruel, identical game.

The phone rang twice, she was back on the line,

"Danny, I’m calling from a different time."

(Sound: The phone static filter gets louder, crackling aggressively across the stereo field. The ticking clock speeds up slightly.)

"Midnight is coming, and it wears your clothes,

It walks with your boots where the cold wind blows.

Follow my voice like you did as a child,

Run through the dark where the yard grows wild."

(Sound: Full cinematic weight. The deep sub-bass and heavy stomps lock together. Layered vocal tracking creates an eerie echo effect.)

Static on the line, static in the head,

Receiving phone calls from the tomorrow dead.

Watch the staircase, listen to the floor,

Somebody’s walking through the midnight door.

Ha, ho, hum, hi...

Look the shadow right in the eye.

(Sound: The instrumentation suddenly cuts out entirely. There is a long, heavy silence. Then, a single, rhythmic car door lock click sounds.)

(Vocal - breathless, talking style)

I threw open the frame, I ran for the yard,

Breathing in the winter where the air hits hard.

Locked inside the dashboard, tears on the wheel,

Thinking I was safe, thinking it was real.

The screen lit up for the final time...

Mom whispered soft through the heavy rime.

"Danny... I told you to use the back."