This month my writer’s group chose “there was a knock at the door” for our writing prompt. For some reason, my mind went to a foggy night. Enjoy!
The mist rose, slowly advancing, blotting out the shapes of the trees that lined the driveway like so many soldiers guarding a roadway. In the daylight, the trees seemed like friendly, protecting guardians. Now seen dimly through the fog, they appeared to be ominous, menacing enemies waiting to advance.
The usual sounds of the forest fell silent as the music at the end of a song fades out. Gradually the rustle of leaves and the breath of the wind faded. I no longer could see the water of the lake in the distance, no longer knew if the waves still lapped the shore or had gone still under the influence of the encroaching mist.
It was almost as if I was the only person left on earth. I moved to turn on the radio. As I raised my hand, the power went out. A cry jumped from my throat. Usually a power outage came during high winds. Not on a still, silent night.
Had some terrible incident happened? Terrorists bringing down the grid? A bomb dropped somewhere? Crazy scenarios chased, one after the other, through my mind.
“Get a grip,” I told myself. “You’ve been watching too much television.”
Through the semi-darkness I found the matches and a candle. The tiny light was reassuring. I laughed at my over-active imagination. “There are no vampires,” I reminded myself. “Nor are there werewolves.”
Shaking my head at my fears, I peered across to my nearest neighbor. No light penetrated the ever-thickening fog.
There was a knock on the door. I jumped and dropped my candle. Plunged into darkness, my fears came racing back.
The knock sound again. Surely Freddie Krueger hasn’t found me here. I stooped to pick up my candle and relit it, glad I had shoved the matchbox in my pocket rather than set it down somewhere.
The knocking on the door became banging. Frantic, insistent banging. I crept down the stairs, through the darkened basement to respond.
I peeked out the window to see who was there. A tall figure turned toward the light. Had I laughed at the idea of vampires or werewolves? That would have been better.
Shaking my head, I thought about not responding the knock. Why let someone in who abandoned me in the midst of tragedy twelve years ago? And why show up on a night straight from a horror movie? I’d rather open the door to Godzilla.
I let out a long breath and reached for the door handle. My older sister had come to call.