fluorescents flickered from the ceiling. The space was empty. Owen released a deep sigh. He chuckled to himself, not feeling particularly jolly, mostly foolish. Had he really thought he’d find them there, waiting for him?
He was about to close the door and head upstairs, when he glanced inside one more time. It was then he noticed that the four dead animals that he’d leaned against his tool storage shelves were gone.
For a moment, Owen thought again of intruders, but quickly, his mind moved on to darker possibilities. Early that morning, he’d meant to head back over to the farmhouse with the animals, right after he’d stopped at his mother-in-law’s house to drive her to the store. After being so shaken by the sight of Ursula standing in his garage the previous night, he figured that whatever easy cash he could have made from the auction was not worth a summertime of nightmares. But of course, the day had made other plans for Owen. For Millie. For Kitty. And so the animals had remained in his garage.
Except … they hadn’t. Someone had taken them.
Owen clicked off the fluorescent lights and closed the door, turning back toward the glow of the foyer. “Honey?” he called out as he ambled slowly forward, hoping she might appear at the top landing, arms open, wearing her beauty-queen smile. But his own voice bounced around the house’s entryway. Honey, honey, honey …
If he could have seen himself, could pause to imagine the sight of a six-foot tall, three-hundred pound man tiptoeing breathlessly into the marble foyer, he may have stopped and shook away his fear, doubling over in giddy laughter at his childish behavior, but his mind was keeping pace with his heart, and both had begun to hurt. Just before he crept into the light of the new room, a different sort of sound resonated off the heights of marble and stone. Somewhere in the house a click-clack, click-clack clatter of claws tapped a tile floor.
He froze. Had an animal found its way inside, trying to escape from the storm?
Click-clack. Click-clack. Something was moving through the dining room on the other side of the foyer. Coming closer. If he didn’t go immediately, it would find him standing there. The thought terrified him. Silently, he stepped backward, hoping to hide himself in the hallway’s shadow.
Growling and screeching sounds swirled resonantly around the space, mixing in awful harmony, like off-pitch voices of the children’s choir singing in church on Sundays.
Owen turned and ran. The noise of scrabbling claws erupted behind him. A high-pitched scream followed it, and Owen Chase, barreling toward his office door, released his own desperate howl. He grabbed the knob and swung the door open. He slipped inside, slammed it shut, then turned and leaned against it. He pressed the button in the center of the knob. The lock clicked.
The rain had calmed. The room was dark, his desk a vague silhouette against the far window. Owen felt pressure in his ears, the thudding of his own blood rushing into his head. He clutched his hands to his scalp, stepping silently away from the door. He wondered if this was what going crazy felt like. Or maybe he was in shock from finding Millie dead on the floor. “Kitty!” he called out again and again, shouting until his throat was raw. But then he thought, what if she wakes up? What if she comes downstairs? What if she discovers what was making those noises?
The noises … They’d stopped. He pressed his ear against the door, but the house was now quiet. If there was something in the hall, he couldn’t allow his wife to stumble into it. He had to be sure. He turned the knob; the lock snapped open. He pulled on the door, peering into the dim crack. The hall was empty. Either the sounds had been in his head, or the thing had moved on to another part of the house.
Bang!
Something toppled to the floor behind him. As lightning flashed, Owen spun. Perched on his desk were two shapes. Bright images of the
He was about to close the door and head upstairs, when he glanced inside one more time. It was then he noticed that the four dead animals that he’d leaned against his tool storage shelves were gone.
For a moment, Owen thought again of intruders, but quickly, his mind moved on to darker possibilities. Early that morning, he’d meant to head back over to the farmhouse with the animals, right after he’d stopped at his mother-in-law’s house to drive her to the store. After being so shaken by the sight of Ursula standing in his garage the previous night, he figured that whatever easy cash he could have made from the auction was not worth a summertime of nightmares. But of course, the day had made other plans for Owen. For Millie. For Kitty. And so the animals had remained in his garage.
Except … they hadn’t. Someone had taken them.
Owen clicked off the fluorescent lights and closed the door, turning back toward the glow of the foyer. “Honey?” he called out as he ambled slowly forward, hoping she might appear at the top landing, arms open, wearing her beauty-queen smile. But his own voice bounced around the house’s entryway. Honey, honey, honey …
If he could have seen himself, could pause to imagine the sight of a six-foot tall, three-hundred pound man tiptoeing breathlessly into the marble foyer, he may have stopped and shook away his fear, doubling over in giddy laughter at his childish behavior, but his mind was keeping pace with his heart, and both had begun to hurt. Just before he crept into the light of the new room, a different sort of sound resonated off the heights of marble and stone. Somewhere in the house a click-clack, click-clack clatter of claws tapped a tile floor.
He froze. Had an animal found its way inside, trying to escape from the storm?
Click-clack. Click-clack. Something was moving through the dining room on the other side of the foyer. Coming closer. If he didn’t go immediately, it would find him standing there. The thought terrified him. Silently, he stepped backward, hoping to hide himself in the hallway’s shadow.
Growling and screeching sounds swirled resonantly around the space, mixing in awful harmony, like off-pitch voices of the children’s choir singing in church on Sundays.
Owen turned and ran. The noise of scrabbling claws erupted behind him. A high-pitched scream followed it, and Owen Chase, barreling toward his office door, released his own desperate howl. He grabbed the knob and swung the door open. He slipped inside, slammed it shut, then turned and leaned against it. He pressed the button in the center of the knob. The lock clicked.
The rain had calmed. The room was dark, his desk a vague silhouette against the far window. Owen felt pressure in his ears, the thudding of his own blood rushing into his head. He clutched his hands to his scalp, stepping silently away from the door. He wondered if this was what going crazy felt like. Or maybe he was in shock from finding Millie dead on the floor. “Kitty!” he called out again and again, shouting until his throat was raw. But then he thought, what if she wakes up? What if she comes downstairs? What if she discovers what was making those noises?
The noises … They’d stopped. He pressed his ear against the door, but the house was now quiet. If there was something in the hall, he couldn’t allow his wife to stumble into it. He had to be sure. He turned the knob; the lock snapped open. He pulled on the door, peering into the dim crack. The hall was empty. Either the sounds had been in his head, or the thing had moved on to another part of the house.
Bang!
Something toppled to the floor behind him. As lightning flashed, Owen spun. Perched on his desk were two shapes. Bright images of the
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