When the phone rang...
A writing challenge from a friend. I had to write a single-page story (12pt. font, single spaced) that started with "when the phone rang at midnight, I knew..."
Obviously, it's very short. Also, one of the stipulations was that I couldn't do any serious planning; basicly a stream-of-consciousness exercise. And sorry, but I didn't make it furry...oh well...
Thought some of you might enjoy it! It's some of the best raw writing I feel that I've done.
When the phone rang at midnight, I knew I would be dead before the morning.
Nonetheless, I quickly gathered all that I could to defend myself; a heavy flashlight, my husband's baseball bat...whatever I could find.
The phone kept ringing, relentless and eerie, sounding the endless call of death. Why was it ringing? Was the murderer taunting me? I did my best to ignore the morbid tone, instead trying to focus on the sound of the thunderstorm raging outside.
The ringing stopped, and something went SLAM outside.
Silence...complete silence...
BAM!! BAM!! BAM!! Slow and deliberate, the sound at the door resounded through the house, filling every corner with the intent of brutal entry.
I stood still. Should I escape? No...I knew there was no escape...no hope. There had been five other murders within the month, and wouldn't those victims have tried to escape? Yes, I would assume so...
BOOM!! BOOM!! BOOM!!
My heart leapt to my throat. Blood roared in my ears.
I knew what would happen. They'd find my body a day or two later, lacerated down the middle. My blood would paint the walls, like some grisly macabre wall design, while my innards would be lain about across the floor in a bazaar arrangement of curls and crossing spirals. What hadn't been used in the morbid work of a psychopath would be found strewn to the side, a forgotten bag of bones.
I heard the door knob jiggle urgently, like the murder was desperate for my blood. Quickly, not worrying about silence, I grabbed the end table nearest the door and scooted it in front of the door, if only to lengthen time on Earth by a few minutes.
A crash of thunder shook the house, and I heard nothing more from the outside terror. Only the rain pattering on the roof broke the ghostly silence. Had he actually gone away? No...such a person who reveled in the squelch of other's blood would not give up on ascertaining a victim.
I backed away from the door, a cold sweat forming on the back of my neck. Should I hide? Should I call the cops? Crash went the storm outside while I made my way to the wall phone...maybe I could at least let them find my body sooner. I picked up the receiver...no signal...
The storm could have knocked out the land lines...but my tormenter must have cut them instead...
My cell phone was dead...
I was dead.
I heard a banging behind me, emanating from the kitchen, where the back door was located. I had forgotten about the back door; I never locked it...easy entry for a murder trying to find a new plaything.
I turned and saw a soaking-wet figure tromp through the kitchen in muddy boots and a large black trench coat.
"Honey, I tried to call you like ten times. I lost my door key and tried knocking to get you to open the door. Lucky for me you forget to lock the backdoor" said the friendly voice of my husband as he stripped off his dripping coat. "Don't tell me you forgot I had late-shift tonight?"
I stood astonished, mouth agape.
I should not have trusted my instincts.