hands
off the door and stepped back out into the porch.
First, she looked to her left, and although
she had to hold her hair back to keep the wind from blowing it into
her face, she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary; no one
appeared to be hiding in the bushes. Then she looked to the right,
in the direction of Randy’s house. Again, nothing unusual or out of
place caught her eye. Yet, she did notice the lights flickering on
and off inside his house, which she thought strange.
One short breath later, the house lights
sputtered for the last time and abruptly died, as did the bulb
above her head. Lightning must have struck a power line nearby and
knocked the power out in the entire neighborhood.
She had never been scared of the dark, or
scared of being alone, but being alone in the dark with the
lightning, thunder, and foreboding presence of some mysterious
visitor, now that was something different altogether.
She crept back inside the house, shut the
door, and locked the stiff bolt into place. She reached around the
wall for the light switch, just to make sure she wasn’t going
crazy, and flipped it on. The light stayed off. The house was dark
and unusually silent. She had to remind herself to breathe.
In. Out. In. Out.
After a minute, her eyes became accustomed
to the darkness, which made her feel a little safer, though now she
could see the lightning cast haunting shadows on the walls. Each
shadow had its own body and face; some even had two faces. The
shadows came like a ghost, danced from room to room, and then
scattered only to return moments later with a new dancing
partner.
Now she had the worst fear of all, worse
than that of being alone in the dark. She feared she wasn’t the
only one in the house. Somebody else was here, hiding behind a
ghostlike shadow, watching with lost eyes and waiting to greet her
with a sick, malicious smile across its face.
Amy built up enough courage to step away
from the front door. She tiptoed into the kitchen and peered around
the corner, then walked over to the window above the kitchen sink
and looked out at the side lawn. Through the thrashing rain, she
could barely make out her green Civic parked in the driveway. She
slowly walked the remainder of the kitchen and came out in the
dining room on the other side. Her cell phone rested on the coffee
table. She thought about calling her father and telling him what
happened.
But what really did happen?
Nothing.
And that was exactly what her father would
say. Why did she need him to tell her? Besides, she didn’t want to
interrupt him while he’s at work, especially if it wasn’t really an
emergency.
When she turned around, she swore she saw
something rush past the dining room window. It moved too fast to be
identified, but Amy was sure she had seen something. She walked
over to the windowsill and looked out upon the backyard. Nobody
appeared to be roaming about in the storm. She waited a minute for
the something to reappear, gave up, turned to walk away, and
then jumped in terror as a hand smashed through the window and
grabbed her arm.
She screamed and struggled to free her arm
from the clutch of the bleeding hand. With each outburst, the power
of her voice weakened. Would anyone be able to hear her over the
tumultuous storm? Another arm came through the window and cupped a
hand over her mouth. Her legs wobbled. In the dark room, the
shadows danced faster. Blood rushed to her head. Her lungs needed
oxygen. She had just about given up the fight, when the intruder
slammed the side of her head into the windowsill, knocking her
unconscious.
3
Isaac circled the body of ash in the center
aisle of the gas station. A pair of handcuffs lay in the middle
with a partially burnt hand still locked within each cuff. He
stopped near the checkout counter and glanced down at the sawed-off
shotgun. Three shells were scattered across the floor nearby. He
carefully examined the shotgun, then the handcuffs.
For the past two
off the door and stepped back out into the porch.
First, she looked to her left, and although
she had to hold her hair back to keep the wind from blowing it into
her face, she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary; no one
appeared to be hiding in the bushes. Then she looked to the right,
in the direction of Randy’s house. Again, nothing unusual or out of
place caught her eye. Yet, she did notice the lights flickering on
and off inside his house, which she thought strange.
One short breath later, the house lights
sputtered for the last time and abruptly died, as did the bulb
above her head. Lightning must have struck a power line nearby and
knocked the power out in the entire neighborhood.
She had never been scared of the dark, or
scared of being alone, but being alone in the dark with the
lightning, thunder, and foreboding presence of some mysterious
visitor, now that was something different altogether.
She crept back inside the house, shut the
door, and locked the stiff bolt into place. She reached around the
wall for the light switch, just to make sure she wasn’t going
crazy, and flipped it on. The light stayed off. The house was dark
and unusually silent. She had to remind herself to breathe.
In. Out. In. Out.
After a minute, her eyes became accustomed
to the darkness, which made her feel a little safer, though now she
could see the lightning cast haunting shadows on the walls. Each
shadow had its own body and face; some even had two faces. The
shadows came like a ghost, danced from room to room, and then
scattered only to return moments later with a new dancing
partner.
Now she had the worst fear of all, worse
than that of being alone in the dark. She feared she wasn’t the
only one in the house. Somebody else was here, hiding behind a
ghostlike shadow, watching with lost eyes and waiting to greet her
with a sick, malicious smile across its face.
Amy built up enough courage to step away
from the front door. She tiptoed into the kitchen and peered around
the corner, then walked over to the window above the kitchen sink
and looked out at the side lawn. Through the thrashing rain, she
could barely make out her green Civic parked in the driveway. She
slowly walked the remainder of the kitchen and came out in the
dining room on the other side. Her cell phone rested on the coffee
table. She thought about calling her father and telling him what
happened.
But what really did happen?
Nothing.
And that was exactly what her father would
say. Why did she need him to tell her? Besides, she didn’t want to
interrupt him while he’s at work, especially if it wasn’t really an
emergency.
When she turned around, she swore she saw
something rush past the dining room window. It moved too fast to be
identified, but Amy was sure she had seen something. She walked
over to the windowsill and looked out upon the backyard. Nobody
appeared to be roaming about in the storm. She waited a minute for
the something to reappear, gave up, turned to walk away, and
then jumped in terror as a hand smashed through the window and
grabbed her arm.
She screamed and struggled to free her arm
from the clutch of the bleeding hand. With each outburst, the power
of her voice weakened. Would anyone be able to hear her over the
tumultuous storm? Another arm came through the window and cupped a
hand over her mouth. Her legs wobbled. In the dark room, the
shadows danced faster. Blood rushed to her head. Her lungs needed
oxygen. She had just about given up the fight, when the intruder
slammed the side of her head into the windowsill, knocking her
unconscious.
3
Isaac circled the body of ash in the center
aisle of the gas station. A pair of handcuffs lay in the middle
with a partially burnt hand still locked within each cuff. He
stopped near the checkout counter and glanced down at the sawed-off
shotgun. Three shells were scattered across the floor nearby. He
carefully examined the shotgun, then the handcuffs.
For the past two
Similar Books
