You walk outside late at night. A dim glow from a distant
street light casts a twilight glow into your yard. You pass under trees to your
driveway where your parked car waits. Something lightly touches your face. Must
be spider webs. Something tickles the side of your neck. You remember the
special on the news about some South American spider invading the area and
being quite deadly. Your back itches. A
tingle. Then a sharp pain and you scream.
You’re away on a trip and happy that you found an
out-of-the-way motel with dirt-cheap rates, just outside of town. The desk
clerk told you the area was so secluded you could scream and no one would
hear you. The night had been quiet, your sleep peaceful. But something awakes. A sound like keys jingling or coins rustling in
someone’s pocket. A thump follows. You open your eyes. The only light comes
from a flickering neon sign outside, bleeding in around the edges of the window
curtains, pulsing like a heartbeat. A shadow looms in the corner of the room. A
scratching like someone dragging the tip of a knife blade across the wall puts
you into a cold sweat and you scream.
The neighbor pounds at your door. You answer and she tells
you someone had been peeking in her window. Outside a heavy snow falls. You
walk with her to the side of the house and note not a single track in the snow
where someone would have stood to look inside. But she argues that the falling
snow could have covered it up. You tell her you’ll stop by later and check on
her. Later you go back out and find trampled snow around the same window. You spot
an overturned lamp on the floor, a broken glass on the floor and red pool of
liquid that looks like blood. You turn to run home and call the police. A dark figure looms in your
path and you scream.
Fear is born out of imagination. The spider webs may be
real, but the spider a trick of the mind. A strange room, someone checking in
next room over and a floor lamp causes heart palpitations. A scaredy-cat neighbor, a
spilt glass of wine and a table lamp knocked over while running to get a towel
elicits images of foul play. But everything can be explained. And the dark
figure?
Maybe it is the boogie man coming to get you.
Ron D. Voigts is the author of Claws of the Griffin, a dark cozy, available on Kindle.
Ron D. Voigts is the author of Claws of the Griffin, a dark cozy, available on Kindle.
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