There was someone in the house.
Sammy Andrzejewski almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. He had written a story with the exact same line not too long ago, but this time the events were not fiction. The shadow flickering across the stairwell was a real, tangible threat. Perhaps it was a burglar. He wasn’t really sure.
He hadn’t realised at first. He had been in his room completing the grading of the Year 10 test papers when he heard a noise. At first, he simply dismissed it as his cat prowling around the house, but then the power cut and he heard the noise again, and the sound started to become distinct.
It was the sound of footsteps.
He slowly rose from his desk and tiptoed to his bedroom door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the potential burglar. He squinted in bewilderment. He could see the stranger's flickering shadow on the wall opposite the staircase, and he could hear the sound of footsteps, but nobody approached him.
With bated breath, he left the safety of his bedroom and moved to the top of the staircase, leaning over the rail tentatively to check if the intruder was at the base of the staircase. The only moving object he could identify was the silhouette of his lazy black cat. The feline stopped in her tracks and stared up at him.
No.
She was staring above him.
The footsteps had stopped.
Sammy froze, petrified. His mother had warned him that the house wasn’t a safe-looking place when he had moved to the village for work, but it was a big and relatively cheap building on the outskirts of Cottage Row. One of his old students had once made a remark about the wide ceiling, speculating that people could walk across it without being seen, especially in the darkness of Foxgrove’s recent power cuts.
Mustering up the courage to move, Sammy slowly tilted his head upwards to see something staring down at him with hollow eyes. His jaw dropped, and he stumbled away from the railing in surprise, accidentally tripping over his own feet. The cloaked figure slowly descended to the ground, and scrutinised the cowering man. The only details Sammy could make out in the darkness was the grey cloak that blended into the darkness seamlessly and the large scythe clasped between its bony fingers. No light in those bright blue eyes.
Sammy stumbled onto his feet and ran back to his room. The creature stood motionlessly as it watched the man run away, almost as if it had anticipated the outcome. Sammy slammed the door shut, breathing heavily as he moved his drawer to block it and keep his assailant outside. The landline was downstairs, but he still had his mobile phone. Running across the room, Sammy picked up his phone with quivering hands and dialled the second helpline number ingrained into his mind: 999. He pressed the button and brought the phone to his ear, waiting impatiently for someone to pick up. The phone dialled, and dialled, and dialled. No response. He pulled the phone from his ear.
No signal.
Sammy cursed under his breath. He was about to re-dial when a chill ran down his spine. Someone was breathing down his back.
“Sammy…”
There was a bloodcurdling scream, and then the lights switched back on as if nothing had changed.
Sammy Andrzejewski almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. He had written a story with the exact same line not too long ago, but this time the events were not fiction. The shadow flickering across the stairwell was a real, tangible threat. Perhaps it was a burglar. He wasn’t really sure.
He hadn’t realised at first. He had been in his room completing the grading of the Year 10 test papers when he heard a noise. At first, he simply dismissed it as his cat prowling around the house, but then the power cut and he heard the noise again, and the sound started to become distinct.
It was the sound of footsteps.
He slowly rose from his desk and tiptoed to his bedroom door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the potential burglar. He squinted in bewilderment. He could see the stranger's flickering shadow on the wall opposite the staircase, and he could hear the sound of footsteps, but nobody approached him.
With bated breath, he left the safety of his bedroom and moved to the top of the staircase, leaning over the rail tentatively to check if the intruder was at the base of the staircase. The only moving object he could identify was the silhouette of his lazy black cat. The feline stopped in her tracks and stared up at him.
No.
She was staring above him.
The footsteps had stopped.
Sammy froze, petrified. His mother had warned him that the house wasn’t a safe-looking place when he had moved to the village for work, but it was a big and relatively cheap building on the outskirts of Cottage Row. One of his old students had once made a remark about the wide ceiling, speculating that people could walk across it without being seen, especially in the darkness of Foxgrove’s recent power cuts.
Mustering up the courage to move, Sammy slowly tilted his head upwards to see something staring down at him with hollow eyes. His jaw dropped, and he stumbled away from the railing in surprise, accidentally tripping over his own feet. The cloaked figure slowly descended to the ground, and scrutinised the cowering man. The only details Sammy could make out in the darkness was the grey cloak that blended into the darkness seamlessly and the large scythe clasped between its bony fingers. No light in those bright blue eyes.
Sammy stumbled onto his feet and ran back to his room. The creature stood motionlessly as it watched the man run away, almost as if it had anticipated the outcome. Sammy slammed the door shut, breathing heavily as he moved his drawer to block it and keep his assailant outside. The landline was downstairs, but he still had his mobile phone. Running across the room, Sammy picked up his phone with quivering hands and dialled the second helpline number ingrained into his mind: 999. He pressed the button and brought the phone to his ear, waiting impatiently for someone to pick up. The phone dialled, and dialled, and dialled. No response. He pulled the phone from his ear.
No signal.
Sammy cursed under his breath. He was about to re-dial when a chill ran down his spine. Someone was breathing down his back.
“Sammy…”
There was a bloodcurdling scream, and then the lights switched back on as if nothing had changed.