Visitors

Desperately trying to silence your heavy breathing, you gaze out from a cramped hiding place under the bed. Heavy footsteps approach the door, and briefly hesitate. Blustery wind slams shut the window you opened as decoy. You curse silently, hoping there is enough rainwater puddled beneath it to have the desired effect; the invaders must surely have heard the bang in any case.

With a crash, the door is kicked open and you see three pairs of booted feet rush in. They run to the window, shove it open, look out. Make unconvinced sounds. Two turn back towards the room: there is only one plausible hiding place. Someone starts moving towards you, and you brace yourself to fight, with no hope of success.

There are sounds then that you can't fit into any meaningful picture of what's going on. A tooth-jarring, nails-on-blackboard screech. Beyond the howling gale outside, an odd, muffled beating.

One of the intruders shouts, and the one who was heading for you turns back to the window. He is the first to crumple. Curling on the floor, his streaming eyes find yours for a moment, lock, widen; you actually see him lose consciousness. Within moments his companions are prone and unmoving beside him.

There is a long pause, broken only by the sounds of the storm. A lightning flash momentarily whitens your restricted view of the room, the three felled figures. There's a clumsy scrabbling noise, panting. And then:

"Mr Hickory? Please, come out from there. It's safe, for now."

For some reason, you find yourself trusting this voice, start to wriggle out into the open.

"It looks like you could do with some help."
Posted by matt at June 3, 2004 01:04 AM