Dark and Stormy Night, by Amber Averay
The windows rattle with each blast of thunder, and I jump like a scared little child. The lightning that flickers outside leaks around the curtains, splashing the darkened room in sprays of silver and white.
I’ve hated storms since…well, since I was a little child. It was a night like this one. I was home alone, but then it was because my parents were at a party. Tonight my boyfriend is working late.
Then, as now, the thunder boomed and shook the house’s foundations, and the lightning strobed across the front yard illuminating indistinct shapes before shadows engulfed them once more. Those brief flashes of light were disconcerting, showing just enough to add to the fear, to highlight strange figures before the shadows engulfed them once more.
Each time the world exploded with light dark figures seemed to creep closer to the windows. And I couldn’t stop myself from twitching aside the curtains and searching for them – just like tonight. Another growl of thunder grumbles before exploding overhead, and I whimper as my feet move mechanically toward the window.
Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look…
I look. With shaking fingers I pinch a corner of the drapes and lift. For a moment, there is only darkness, only the weather roaring, the glass pane rattling, the foundations shaking. And then the world lights up, and the silhouette of a man appears not three feet from me! Almost before I can register what I’m seeing, he raises a gloved hand and waves, and the shadows swallow him again. But only for a moment. Thunder booms, lightning strikes, and he’s gone.
I gasp, and fling the curtain back before racing for the front door. Did I lock it? Is it secure? My heart is racing, blood roaring in my ears, and I slam into the wall beside the door while my hands fumble over each lock and chain.
Everything is in place.
I’m safe.
I sag with relief, shaking with fear. Rain begins pattering against the windows, sharp tapping sounds that send ripples shivering along my spine. I hate storms. I hate…
My ears prick up, and the blood turns to ice in my veins. The house rattles beneath another blast of thunder, and I smother a whimper while straining to hear beyond the weather. I’m sure I heard the sliding door squeak open – the sliding door that leads to the backyard…
No! I’m torn between investigating and fleeing, when one more fork of lightning blasts light through the room, and I see…
I see…
The gloved hand, raised in a nonchalant wave. Black ski mask, glistening with rain. Water dripping over my kitchen floor.
Darkness descends. The next eruption of light comes impossibly fast, and he’s here, he’s right here in front of me…
The roaring of thunder drowns out my screams.
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