Welcome
to The Spot Writers. October’s prompt: “write a story inspired by what's
outside your window.”
This
week’s story comes from Cathy MacKenzie. Cathy’s novel, WOLVES DON’T
KNOCK, a psychological drama, is available from her locally or on
Amazon.
MISTER
WOLFE, the
sequel, coming early 2020. Watch for it!
***
Monster
in the House
by Cathy MacKenzie
I lay in
bed, not daring to move. That noise. What is it? Someone’s broken into the
house is my first thought, but I’d have heard the beeps of the alarm
system—wouldn’t I?
They’re
at the front door. Outside—no, definitely inside. But how? Was I that sound
asleep I didn’t hear the alarm? Didn’t Hubby hear it?
Hubby is
beside me. Fast asleep. I can’t see him in the dark. I’m too afraid to open my
eyes, but I’m positive it’s dark.
Quiet
now—no, there it is. Definitely at the front door.
My heart
thumps against my chest. I clutch Hubby’s arm. “Wake up,” I whisper. My fingers
press into his flesh. “Someone’s here.”
"Wha—what’s
wrong?” His voice is thick with sleep.
“Shush.
Someone’s at the front door.”
“What?
Who?”
“Shush,”
I say again. “Shush.”
Silence.
Nope.
There it is again.
“At the
front door. Someone’s here. They’ve broken in.”
“Someone’s
in the house?”
“Yes!”
Maybe
it’s not the front door. But it’s somewhere close by. There! Again.
My eyes
are open now, but it’s as if I’m blind. I point in the darkness. “Down the
hall.”
The noise
is by the bathroom. Mere feet away.
“It’s an
animal.” A squirrel?
“Go back
to sleep,” Hubby says. “There’s nothing here.”
Three
days ago, we moved into our new-to-us house. I’m not attuned yet to these
different night sounds. What creatures might lurk in the dark? Or in a nook or
cranny we haven’t yet discovered. The house could be haunted for all I know.
The
intruder—or intruders—isn’t mice. I’m familiar with the soundless pitter of
those rodents. This commotion is far from soundless.
But in
the house?
Hubby
sits. “Your imagination again.”
Last
night, I heard an unmistakeable noise and woke him up. It could have been mice
then as it was a weird sound in the walls. Turned out to be the furnace. The
previous owners forgot to turn off one of the in-floor heat zones, so the
furnace turned on occasionally at night.
He plops
back to the bed.
“There!”
I poke him in the side and sit, clutching the linens to my heaving chest.
“Definitely down the hall.” The sound reminds me of an elderly person on
crutches, his bad leg dragging on the floor.
If Hubby
doesn’t hear it this time, he needs to return to the doctor to get his ears
unplugged.
“I don't
hear anything.”
“Shush,
you always talk so loud.”
Silence
except for my thumping heart that’s about to blast from my chest.
“There!
You must hear it now.” The shuffling is louder. Must be an animal in the house.
Hubby has a habit of leaving the garage door wide open to the elements. Maybe
it’s a raccoon. A family of raccoons made their home in our attic a few years
ago. Could a raccoon have snuck in?
“Hmmm...
There is something.” He gets out of bed and sneaks down the hall. Turns on the
hall light.
Silence.
Where is
he? Has the “monster” gotten him?
He’s been
gone too long.
“Where
are you?” My voice is too low for him to hear.
The light
finally goes out.
“Nothing
there,” he says, returning to bed.
I hear it
again. The sounds are louder. Shuffling. Scratching. Hubby hears it, too; I can
tell by the change in his breathing.
I shriek.
“It’s outside. Behind my head.” Someone’s spying on us. That one-legged man?
Hubby
peers out the window by our bed. “Probably a branch rubbing against the
window.” He turns on the bedside light and looks out again.
The noise
increases as if the creature—animal or human—is afraid of the light. Shuffling.
Scratching. Screeching.
“Raccoon,”
he says. “Raccoon in the compost bin.” He shuts off the light and comes back to
bed.
“You
can’t leave it,” I say.
“I’m not
going out at three in the morning.”
The
raccoon eventually calms down. Maybe it falls asleep. Maybe we do.
***
The Spot
Writers—Our Members:
Val
Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/
Catherine
A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/
Phil
Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com
Chiara De
Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/
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