Not Alone

Remember in the olden days (or maybe not) magazines that carried fiction and the stories were  continued in the next month's magazine...a serial? Me either, I was a baby then. (Yes I was.)  For something different, I'm posting an old short story, in three parts, for your reading pleasure or pain (if you choose to be editor instead of reader it could cause pain). 

Not Alone

 Part I

    
           Sam had warned her. Actually, Erica’s husband had forbidden her from watching crime TV while he was away on a hunting trip. When she’d finally turned off the TV, scenes of torture and murder danced in her mind. But, she liked watching crime shows.

Erica pulled a blanket tight around her body despite the muggy summer air moving through the basement patio door. It was midnight and she was wide awake and—anxious. She sighed and turned the flat screen on again to watch a late night talk show.

“I wonder what Sam’s doing,” she said then pulled a cell phone from her pajama pocket and pushed a speed dial digit.

The number rang once and again and after the fourth ring went to voicemail. “This is Sam, leave it and I’ll return it.”

“Hi, Babe, just wanted to say I’m missing you. I hope you’re having fun, but I can’t wait to have you home again. Call me when you wake up? Love you.” Erica ended the call and placed the phone on the table next to the couch. She pulled free of the tangled blanket that held her captive and headed for the kitchen upstairs.

Erica stopped on the first step. “Maxy, where are you?”

Max strolled from behind a chair stretching his legs and meowing with each movement a wimpy sound not worthy of his 13 furry pounds. He flipped his bushy tail then rubbed against her legs.

Erica doubled over to gather Max in her arms, but soon released him when he squirmed for freedom. She took another step up then stopped to sniff the air. Was that cigarette smoke she smelled?

She remembered the open door and ran back to close it. Erica jumped when she saw her own distorted reflection in the glass then pulled the sheers over the black hole.

“I shouldn’t have let Sam take all the guns with him.” She laughed and walked back to the stairwell.

From the kitchen upstairs, Erica heard a muffled clatter that caused her heart to bounce in her chest. The noise stopped.

Should she be quiet? Should she make noise? Was there was someone in the kitchen?

Continued... next Friday.

Photo source: Lifestyle