Posts Tagged fiction
Note: this is a fictional short story not meant for children’s eyes. I love writing and, since I have a blog, decided to post little stories here. I am NOT a professional writer nor do I tend to pretend to be one.
I know something woke me up but I can’t tell what. I decide to lie still because I don’t want to wake my husband up. What woke me up? Maybe it was the cat, yes, it must have been him.
Wait a minute, that was a sound coming from the washroom! Silly me wanting to not disturb my husband when he’s clearly in the washroom; although, he could be quieter about it! What’s he doing? Why is the faucet just running and running? Is he cleaning?!
I hear a different sound now, this one comes from next to me in the bed: it’s the quiet familiar breathing of my sleeping husband. I smile.
A thought crosses my sleepy mind: how can my husband be sleeping next to me and be in the washroom at the same time? I need to get up and see what’s going on! I lift my arm to remove my blanket and… nothing happens, my arm is still next to me. I try to move my other arm and it’s completely still. I try to move my foot, my finger, my head, anything! I can’t move. I am trapped in my own body yet horribly aware of it. Every one of my muscles feels on fire as I try to trash and move them.
The faucet stopped. Someone is going trough the drawers and I can just lie here, looking at the ceiling. Where is the dog? Why doesn’t she bark? Why isn’t my husband waking up? Maybe he can’t hear it. I try to call his name but my mouth is as frozen as the rest of my body. I am able to whimper, hopefully that will wake him up. I whimper and whimper. I can feel my troath getting raw and tears running down my cheeks from the effort.
The person is no longer opening and closing the drawers. The only thing I can hear is the swoosh-swoosh of the ceiling fan. I’m no longer whimpering in fear of being discovered by the stranger that has violated my home. Gosh, where is my dog?! Is she all right?
I hear the bedroom door opening, I can finally start moving but not enough. I can wiggle my toes and turn my head a bit so I’m facing the doors. There is a dark silhouette against the door frame.
Is that a man? Do I know him?
The dark silhouette moves towards me, I can feel him watching me. The sound of the blood pounding in my ears does not let me hear his muffled steps on the carpeted floor. I close my eyes.
What is he doing? Why cannot I hear him? Where is he?
I can’t stand not knowing what he’s doing in my bedroom so I open my eyes. I see his dark form towering over me and then it just vanishes. I scream, my dog barks, the cat jumps off the bed, and my husband tells me to go back to sleep.