This is a work-in-progress and subject to rewrites, it's an interesting premise I had a while back.
--
Brittany had been feeling slightly under the weather throughout most of the school day and as the dark clouds began to gather on the distant horizon, slowly creeping closer, she'd been leery about agreeing to her friend's requests, more like pleas, to meet up with them later that evening.
It proved to be the fortuitous decision as the sky slowly opened up and let loose a few hours after she arrived home, just as the darkness of evening began to creep in. The storm seemed to pulse with the full might of mother nature's fury, each rumble of thunder vibrating like an angry heartbeat through the walls of the house and the occasional flash of blinding lightning giving the few trees her father allowed eerie shadows, like specters, in its illumination.
It was to this backdrop that she retired early to her room and the waiting comfort of her bed, wearing a pair of her comfiest pajamas, a mug of warm tea nursed between her palms. She had tried to drown out the noises of the storm by watching episodes from one of her favorite trashy, reality television shows.
It failed.
She gradually increased the volume until she feared more of blowing the speakers on her TV than the storm itself. She flicked off the TV with a resigned sigh.
Thinking that maybe her music would succeed where the TV had failed, she reached for her headphones, slipping them into her ears and reaching for her phone, began to scroll through her various playlists until she found a recent album from her favorite artist and clicked shuffle play. She began to hum along with the soft instrumentals, slowly increasing the volume to near dangerous levels until mother nature's fury was little more than soft rumbles.
Before long, her eyes began to droop and she felt her tired body succumb to sleep.
BOOM
The sound brought her to a drowsy state of awareness and she shifted to a raised sitting position, rubbing at the sleep in the corner of eyes, her mind struggling to a state fit to process sensory input. Subconsciously, she rubbed at the trail of drool trailing from the corner of her mouth and chin with the sleeve of her night shirt.
BOOM
The sound echoed through the empty house again, slightly louder this time, as if there were more force behind the origins. She removed her headphones and placed them on the table beside her bed and slid until her bare toes touched the wooden flooring of her bedroom. She slowly lowered her weight to the floor and the floor gave a soft groan.
The floor had been one of many to-do tasks on her father's TLC (tender, love and care) list since he and her mother had finalized the purchase on their house. He claimed the creaking spoke to the age and history of the house with a fond gleam – she thought they enjoyed it more as an early detection system for when she or her brother were coming back in after being out past curfew.
BOOM
The sound came again, far louder this time without the music to mute it and she slowly crept to the door, pulling it slowly open to reveal the hallway of the second floor and the stairs leading down to the entry way.
“Hello?”
She slowly eased out of her room and left the door slightly ajar behind her. She peered down from the top of the stairs to see the front door ajar. Thinking nothing of it, she made her way down the stairs, her bare toes sinking into the soft carpet there, jumping slightly at the slight creak on the fourth step from the bottom and chastising her for her silliness, she slowly stepped outside and glanced first left and then right, noting nothing out of the ordinary on the street. The wind whipped the rain against her and shivering, she returned to the safety and warmth of the house, pulling the front door closed behind her.
She made her way into the kitchen, expecting to find her brother sneaking a late night snack. Instead she found herself alone, a yellow sticky note taped to the refrigerator.
- -Sorry to see you weren't feeling well, the three of us went to see a movie. Won't be back till late.
XOXO Mom
P.S. There are leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry, help yourself!
The note did little to ease her slowly mounting fears. If her parents were in town at the local cinema, who had left the front door unlocked? Her parents were nearly obsessive in their insistence on locking the house, even for short trips into town for groceries or when someone was home. They insisted that when she and her brother were older and owned their own place, they would understand.
The ancient part of her brain said she should call 911.
She ran, bare feet slapping the hardwood floor, to the dining room and the table where the cordless phone sat nestled, charging, red light blinking.
She lifted the phone and pressed the talk button.
Nothing happened.
Panic gripped her and she pressed the talk button again, feeling her breath seize in her throat. There was nothing, no sound. She followed the charging station to the wall, verifying that it was indeed plugged into the phone jack in the wall – it was. Confusion grew and she tried to make sense of things.
She face palmed when she remembered she had her cellphone, this was the 21st century after all!
She swiped her phone and keyed in her code to unlock the phone, pressing the phone button to make the call. She keyed in 9-1-1 and was about to press call when a noise caused her to hesitate. It was faint, almost invisible amid the noise of the raging storm outside; but, there was definitely something there.
There! She heard it again and slowly turned, listening intently. The sound repeated and she found herself digging through her mental memories, recalling a similar sound when her father had walked into the house during a similar storm in his work boots, not allowing them to dry before doing so. Each step had generated a squelching sound, one that caused you to subconsciously shiver.
Squelch. Squelch.
The footprints were slowly growing louder, coming from the hallway. Fearing for her safety and unsure of the intruder's intentions, she quietly padded up the stairs, wincing when one of the steps groaned, the sound echoing through the quiet house. The footsteps paused and then began again, slowly approaching the foot of the stairs. Not bothering to wait around to see who the intruder was, she reached the top of the stairs and scurried into her bedroom. She found herself seized with a moment of indecisiveness, debating between hiding under the bed and seeking safety inside her messy closet.
Both seemed like good choices and both were ones she expected would be searched. She slowly spun, observing the rest of her room, looking for somewhere else she could hide.
--
Brittany had been feeling slightly under the weather throughout most of the school day and as the dark clouds began to gather on the distant horizon, slowly creeping closer, she'd been leery about agreeing to her friend's requests, more like pleas, to meet up with them later that evening.
It proved to be the fortuitous decision as the sky slowly opened up and let loose a few hours after she arrived home, just as the darkness of evening began to creep in. The storm seemed to pulse with the full might of mother nature's fury, each rumble of thunder vibrating like an angry heartbeat through the walls of the house and the occasional flash of blinding lightning giving the few trees her father allowed eerie shadows, like specters, in its illumination.
It was to this backdrop that she retired early to her room and the waiting comfort of her bed, wearing a pair of her comfiest pajamas, a mug of warm tea nursed between her palms. She had tried to drown out the noises of the storm by watching episodes from one of her favorite trashy, reality television shows.
It failed.
She gradually increased the volume until she feared more of blowing the speakers on her TV than the storm itself. She flicked off the TV with a resigned sigh.
Thinking that maybe her music would succeed where the TV had failed, she reached for her headphones, slipping them into her ears and reaching for her phone, began to scroll through her various playlists until she found a recent album from her favorite artist and clicked shuffle play. She began to hum along with the soft instrumentals, slowly increasing the volume to near dangerous levels until mother nature's fury was little more than soft rumbles.
Before long, her eyes began to droop and she felt her tired body succumb to sleep.
BOOM
The sound brought her to a drowsy state of awareness and she shifted to a raised sitting position, rubbing at the sleep in the corner of eyes, her mind struggling to a state fit to process sensory input. Subconsciously, she rubbed at the trail of drool trailing from the corner of her mouth and chin with the sleeve of her night shirt.
BOOM
The sound echoed through the empty house again, slightly louder this time, as if there were more force behind the origins. She removed her headphones and placed them on the table beside her bed and slid until her bare toes touched the wooden flooring of her bedroom. She slowly lowered her weight to the floor and the floor gave a soft groan.
The floor had been one of many to-do tasks on her father's TLC (tender, love and care) list since he and her mother had finalized the purchase on their house. He claimed the creaking spoke to the age and history of the house with a fond gleam – she thought they enjoyed it more as an early detection system for when she or her brother were coming back in after being out past curfew.
BOOM
The sound came again, far louder this time without the music to mute it and she slowly crept to the door, pulling it slowly open to reveal the hallway of the second floor and the stairs leading down to the entry way.
“Hello?”
She slowly eased out of her room and left the door slightly ajar behind her. She peered down from the top of the stairs to see the front door ajar. Thinking nothing of it, she made her way down the stairs, her bare toes sinking into the soft carpet there, jumping slightly at the slight creak on the fourth step from the bottom and chastising her for her silliness, she slowly stepped outside and glanced first left and then right, noting nothing out of the ordinary on the street. The wind whipped the rain against her and shivering, she returned to the safety and warmth of the house, pulling the front door closed behind her.
She made her way into the kitchen, expecting to find her brother sneaking a late night snack. Instead she found herself alone, a yellow sticky note taped to the refrigerator.
- -Sorry to see you weren't feeling well, the three of us went to see a movie. Won't be back till late.
XOXO Mom
P.S. There are leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry, help yourself!
The note did little to ease her slowly mounting fears. If her parents were in town at the local cinema, who had left the front door unlocked? Her parents were nearly obsessive in their insistence on locking the house, even for short trips into town for groceries or when someone was home. They insisted that when she and her brother were older and owned their own place, they would understand.
The ancient part of her brain said she should call 911.
She ran, bare feet slapping the hardwood floor, to the dining room and the table where the cordless phone sat nestled, charging, red light blinking.
She lifted the phone and pressed the talk button.
Nothing happened.
Panic gripped her and she pressed the talk button again, feeling her breath seize in her throat. There was nothing, no sound. She followed the charging station to the wall, verifying that it was indeed plugged into the phone jack in the wall – it was. Confusion grew and she tried to make sense of things.
She face palmed when she remembered she had her cellphone, this was the 21st century after all!
She swiped her phone and keyed in her code to unlock the phone, pressing the phone button to make the call. She keyed in 9-1-1 and was about to press call when a noise caused her to hesitate. It was faint, almost invisible amid the noise of the raging storm outside; but, there was definitely something there.
There! She heard it again and slowly turned, listening intently. The sound repeated and she found herself digging through her mental memories, recalling a similar sound when her father had walked into the house during a similar storm in his work boots, not allowing them to dry before doing so. Each step had generated a squelching sound, one that caused you to subconsciously shiver.
Squelch. Squelch.
The footprints were slowly growing louder, coming from the hallway. Fearing for her safety and unsure of the intruder's intentions, she quietly padded up the stairs, wincing when one of the steps groaned, the sound echoing through the quiet house. The footsteps paused and then began again, slowly approaching the foot of the stairs. Not bothering to wait around to see who the intruder was, she reached the top of the stairs and scurried into her bedroom. She found herself seized with a moment of indecisiveness, debating between hiding under the bed and seeking safety inside her messy closet.
Both seemed like good choices and both were ones she expected would be searched. She slowly spun, observing the rest of her room, looking for somewhere else she could hide.