A truly horrendous noise erupts from Gods know where at 3:26AM on Tuesday, like the gates of hell needing a tune up. Phil jolts awake and attempts to leap from his bed, getting tangled in his sheets and nearly acquainting his face with the floor. “Gods damn it,” he curses, hopping free from his bedding and running to the window. Yanking the curtains aside he glowers at the street, eyes sweeping for the source of the noise that has yet to stop. “I swear, if it’s that girl and her hellhound again I am moving.”
Phil scans the street for a few minutes, unable to find anyone or anything lurking by light of the street lamps. The screeching stops as suddenly as it started, leaving Phil’s ears with an echoing sensation. He blinks at his clock, now reading 3:32AM, and grumpily crawls back into bed with the hopes of forgetting this late night annoyance.
Except it happens again. At 3:32AM the noise comes crashing back in, and Phil once again jolts aw