In honor of Halloween month (something we take very seriously here in the Busch household), I decided to write my first thriller-style short story. Enjoy.
It was a dark and windy night. Steve was working, and I was home alone with my children. I had stayed up late fretting about a Facebook comment made by a friend of a friend, and so my mind was uneasy as I started my nightly bedtime routine.
I locked and bolted the doors (recalling the day last week when I got into my car only to discover that all my spare change and phone chargers had been stolen out of it), checked on all the kids, and headed to bed, turning off the lamp and tripping over Buster as I did so. I climbed into my welcoming sheets and snuggled deeply into the comfortingly soft warmth of my bed, listening to the wind whistle outside.
I had just started dozing off when I heard a muffled cry--I sat up and listened harder. The cry came again, but it wasn't from the boys' room--it was from Maggie, my girl who usually sleeps through the night without fail.
This is unusual, I thought, my heart pounding--I jumped up and went in to find her screaming in pain--she had gotten her leg caught between the bars of her crib. I sighed with relief that it wasn't something more serious, pulled her leg free, and handed her her bunny. She went back to sleep and I hurried back to my bed, the shadows of the night changing the typical shapes of my familiar room into grotesquely frightening creatures.
I had once again fallen back into that magical place between wakefulness and sleep when I heard another sound that made my blood run cold. Footsteps. And they were coming nearer.
I burrowed down more deeply into my covers, hoping the sound would go away--I heard my door creak open and my pulse quickened. The footsteps came closer and closer, and then...they stopped. Right next to my bed.
I felt my bed shift ever so slightly, and my heart seemed to stop in my chest. Praying that it wasn't what I thought it might be, I cracked opened my eyes to see one of the most horrifying sights a mother can imagine at 2:30 in the morning--a little white face, nearly nose-to-nose with mine.
I shrieked. "Clark! What are you doing?"
He rubbed his eyes sleepily--"I had a nightmare."
I sighed, hugged him, and told him to grab his blanket so he could sleep on the floor next to my bed.
He went to grab his blanket, and I closed my eyes once again. I slowed my breathing, then heard something that once again took me back to that horrifying place of fear.
There was something breathing next to me in my bed!
Quaking with terror, I slowly rolled over, my eyes squinched shut against the horrors I knew awaited me. I opened my eyes slowly, only to be confronted with yet another little white face.
I shrieked yet again. "Jack!"
It was a dark and windy night. Steve was working, and I was home alone with my children. I had stayed up late fretting about a Facebook comment made by a friend of a friend, and so my mind was uneasy as I started my nightly bedtime routine.
I locked and bolted the doors (recalling the day last week when I got into my car only to discover that all my spare change and phone chargers had been stolen out of it), checked on all the kids, and headed to bed, turning off the lamp and tripping over Buster as I did so. I climbed into my welcoming sheets and snuggled deeply into the comfortingly soft warmth of my bed, listening to the wind whistle outside.
I had just started dozing off when I heard a muffled cry--I sat up and listened harder. The cry came again, but it wasn't from the boys' room--it was from Maggie, my girl who usually sleeps through the night without fail.
This is unusual, I thought, my heart pounding--I jumped up and went in to find her screaming in pain--she had gotten her leg caught between the bars of her crib. I sighed with relief that it wasn't something more serious, pulled her leg free, and handed her her bunny. She went back to sleep and I hurried back to my bed, the shadows of the night changing the typical shapes of my familiar room into grotesquely frightening creatures.
I had once again fallen back into that magical place between wakefulness and sleep when I heard another sound that made my blood run cold. Footsteps. And they were coming nearer.
I burrowed down more deeply into my covers, hoping the sound would go away--I heard my door creak open and my pulse quickened. The footsteps came closer and closer, and then...they stopped. Right next to my bed.
I felt my bed shift ever so slightly, and my heart seemed to stop in my chest. Praying that it wasn't what I thought it might be, I cracked opened my eyes to see one of the most horrifying sights a mother can imagine at 2:30 in the morning--a little white face, nearly nose-to-nose with mine.
I shrieked. "Clark! What are you doing?"
He rubbed his eyes sleepily--"I had a nightmare."
I sighed, hugged him, and told him to grab his blanket so he could sleep on the floor next to my bed.
He went to grab his blanket, and I closed my eyes once again. I slowed my breathing, then heard something that once again took me back to that horrifying place of fear.
There was something breathing next to me in my bed!
Quaking with terror, I slowly rolled over, my eyes squinched shut against the horrors I knew awaited me. I opened my eyes slowly, only to be confronted with yet another little white face.
I shrieked yet again. "Jack!"
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