I was at home. Alone. My wife was off to some girlfriend. To whom, I forgot. All I remembered was that she finally left me alone and that I had the couch all to myself for the next couple of hours – did I need to know more?
To kick off my free night I grabbed a beer and turned on Netflix for some good old ‘The Walking Dead’. A new season had just been released. The refrigerator was filled with beer and left overs. Conditions where perfect.
It was around 10 o’ clock that evening, during my third beer and third episode of zombie gruesomeness, that I heard a loud 'tick!' sound in the kitchen. I thought nothing of it. Maybe the heater had a hick-up or the ice machine had come to life.
My attention went back to the television. Rick Grimes was just about to invade the Village of some crazy governor. Shit was tense too say the least. And that’s when I heard it again. ‘TICK!’ This time the sound was sharper and more distinctive… and it sure as hell was no damn heater!
It was a sound I had heard frequently in my younger years. It was the sound of your friends calling you at night when your parents where a sleep, and they needed your attention. It was the same sound. No doubt about it. This was definitely the cry of window glass that had been hit by a small stone. A pebble. But who the hell still does that stuff now we have mobile phones?
The sudden noise scared me shitless, to say the least. Not only where some creepy walkers on TV about to pop-up to feast on some fresh human flesh, but also because our back yard is completely shut off from the rest of the streets and you would have to have some mad curving skills to hit that particular window from all the way back in the garden from behind the fence. Actually… it was just simply impossible to hit it without standing in front of that window. And to think that someone was standing out there in my back yard in the dark at 10 a clock at night?
So like every sensible person would do, I ignored it. The thought of a pebble thrower became more and more ridiculous with every quiet second. But when I heard the third and the fourth ‘tick’… Let’s just say that it took me some time to grab my balls of the floor and finally get up to check this stuff out.
When I slowly entered the kitchen, my mind was providing me with all the wrong ideas that only seems to pop-up in situations when they are most unpleasant. Things like creepy pastas, horrific scenes from horror movies and ghostly superstitions kept haunting me when I made my way to the kitchen door. But what bothered me the most was the news that people in town couldn’t stop talking about all week: Where did the looney ‘Wondering Willy’ go when he escaped the local asylum last week?
When I entered the kitchen and looked outside the window, I cursed my wife for not having turned the garden lights on when she left. All I could see was the dark reflection of myself which was staring back like some sinister version of myself. And that sight was not helping to get my heartbeat down to its regular condition at all.
I turned on the kitchen lights to erase some of the darkness outside but that only made my sight worse and my reflection in the window sharper. I immediately turned it off again and decided it was best to walk out and to turn the garden lights on myself to finally get the crazy idea out of my head that that looney was out there, and that it was that psycho who was throwing pebbles at my freaking window.
I stepped in front of the door and filled my longs with a deep breath. The backdoor had a large one layered glass window where you could easily step through without bumping your head or bending your knees too much and it was large enough to oversee most of the garden when the light was on.
I flipped the switch, looked outside and immediately stepped back. The fence door was open - no fucking doubt about that. She left that thing unlocked again, but to also leave it wide the fuck open... No, that would be a first.
I locked the backdoor with the key that was still in it and backed off. No way that some maniac was going to enter my fortress and especially not on this night. It was best to walk away and leave the outside world just as it was. For all I knew, some squirrel dropped his nuts on my kitchen window and that my wife left that fence door open. There was no need to create a wild story about Wondering Willy who was trying to get my attention - nope, why would I want to think about that on a night like this?
I walked through my dark kitchen towards the warm, white light of my television and the comfort of my couch; my safe haven far away from that outside world that’s filled with horrors. But after a few steps, instead of touching the soft rubber carpet, my bare foot landed on something pointy. Something hard. Something like… a pebble.
Submitted January 10, 2018 at 07:57PM by MrVanDeNacht http://ift.tt/2mhnMJd nosleep
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