Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Who's There?

Written in response to challenge from Eric for Halloween stories....

The whispered laughter froze me. My eyes flew open only to be greeted with the complete darkness of my bedroom. I silently willed my pupils to pick up any inkling of light so that I might discern the source of the hushed chuckle I had just heard coming from across the room. But the black of a moonless night in the country is implacable, indifferent to the fears of a twelve-year-old girl lying motionless in her bed at 3 a.m. The faintest outline of the window began to take shape, but everything beyond the sill remained stubbornly cloaked.    

“heh, heh, heh….”
It came again. As though the intruder could barely contain his delight at sneaking into my room. His mirth overflowing as he contemplated the atrocities he would visit upon my vulnerable being.
I clutched the covers, waiting for the inevitable, waiting for the feel of cold hands clamping around my throat. I should scream, I thought. I should yell and scare him away. But what if I don’t scare him, I argued back. What if sound just spurs him into action and hastens your death? I lay as still as possible, holding my breath, hoping this potential murderer would change his mind and quietly depart. I listened intently for movement. Moments passed with no sound. I began to think I had dreamt it all. I closed my eyes once again.
“heh, heh, heh…”
Oh dear God. He’s still here. He’s in the room. Why doesn’t he do something? Why does he just stand there and laugh? Does he know I’m awake? What does he want?

As I lay there imagining the horrors soon to descend upon me, I heard the familiar distant sound of a car coming up the rural road where our house was located. I breathed an inward sigh of relief as I knew at one certain curve, the car’s headlights would flood my room with precious light. I would be able to see my tormentor at last.
I waited the few seconds that seem a lifetime in such moments. The car drew closer. The beams shot through the window, thoroughly illuminating every corner. From my prone position, I scoured the room with my eyes, seeking the source of the laughter. I saw the dresser with my collection of unicorns on top. I saw the child’s rocking chair with the oversize stuffed dog sitting in it. I saw my desk covered with scattered books and papers. But I saw no intruder. No one was there.
The car’s headlights moved on, sinking the room into darkness once again, even more so after the momentary brightness. I was confused, but relieved. I’d heard it. I know I did. It was definitely the crazed laughter of a serial killer intent on harm. But the headlights don’t lie. There was nothing to fear. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.
“heh, heh, heh…”
My eyes shot open again as fear clutched my heart. My chest tightened as thoughts of escape furiously circulated through my brain. The sound came from the direction of the door, which was located near the foot of my bed. The light switch was also at the foot of my bed. I’d never wished for a bedside lamp so desperately.
“heh, heh, heh…”
There was no question now that action must be taken. My plan quickly took shape. I would throw off my covers, jump to the foot of my bed, hit the lights and dart out the door before anyone -- or anything -- could catch me. I calculated the angle, the speed, the coordinated motion of spindly, girlish legs bounding for the door and arms flailing for the light switch in one smooth jump. I mined my will for the courage to move, to confront the hushed joker across my darkened room.
“heh, heh, heh…”  
I sprung into action, leaping in fluid fright, landing at the corner of the bed nearest the door and frantically feeling for the switch. My searching hand caught the small knob, and light immediately pushed away all shadows. I turned sharply to catch a glimpse of the ghoul I was certain would be there. And indeed there it was, lying on the floor at the foot of my bed, hidden from my sight. It looked at me with mocking eyes, mouth open and long red tongue lolling out between dozens of sharp teeth. It tilted its head at me and licked its snout. Its long bushy tail began to wag slowly, gently slapping the wood floor. “heh, heh, heh…”
“Niki!” I sighed with exasperation. “When did you sneak in here?”
Feeling decidedly silly, I cradled my beloved dog’s face in my hands and nuzzled her forehead to mine before hopping back in bed. Under the watchful eye of my canine guard, I fell into a peaceful sleep at last.  

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