mixster

Gunshots fired. A body collapsed lifelessly to the floor; blood seeping from wounds. Blaring sirens screeched as the police cars skidded into the parking lot. The shadows dispersed with guns aimed at the unwelcome intruders, waiting.

They took refuge with darkness, as the patrol spread out and checked on the body.

A small hand signal; in an instant, bullets swam through the air, coming from all directions straight for the police. Screams of pain echoed as they dived behind whatever protection they could. Retaliation was quick, but they had no idea where to shoot - the gloomy night wasn’t revealing anything.

An advert cut in between the movie. It wasn’t that good of a film, but what else was there to do on a dull winter’s night. So he sat there, mindlessly eating the odd snack as the adverts rolled on. It still wasn’t even late; it had only just gone eight. Yet it seemed so much later with the pitch-black night and lights dimmed for atmosphere.

His parents had left him alone for the weekend – some might say an unwise choice. Andrew was nearly seventeen though and they did trust him enough to assume he wouldn’t throw a party or the like.

Indeed he wasn’t doing anything, though not by choice – everyone else was busy with other things. Television was his last escape from boredom. Well, it was either this or homework.

Something was a bit peculiar about the night though – he wasn’t sure, maybe it was that the house was too quiet thanks to his freedom.

Despite this, one thing he could do was get something to eat. As talented as he was in the kitchen (he was widely known for his skill in following directions on cardboard sleeves and the like), nothing would be better than a pizza. Picking up the kitchen phone, he made the call.

‘It’ll be there in half an hour!’ sung the pizza-man in an overly cheery tone. He scrawled down the time and went back to watch TV.

So Andrew waited while watching the film. It wasn’t really getting any better. The criminals were now being hounded around town in a quite boring car chase - something he didn’t think was possible - almost drifting asleep, even though he had only sat down a few minutes before.

That was until the phone rang. He wasn’t expecting anyone to call. Maybe it was the pizza place?

‘I’m nearly there,’ crackled a static riddled voice. His eyebrows dropped and mouth stiffened. Who was it? He had ordered his food within the last five minutes, so surely it couldn’t be ready by now. He also hadn’t known the deliverer to call ahead.

‘Erm, who, who – are you?’ he managed to request, but it went unanswered as the caller deeply breathed out before hanging up.

He stood there, phone glued to his hand, trying to make sense of it, but nothing seemed to fit. Who could they be? Was it maybe just a friend trying to scare him? He couldn’t think of anyone whom he had annoyed recently though, nor anyone who had done anything like this before.

Slowly, he put the phone down and returned to his hesitant seat. His mind kept going over all the horror films he had watched, which really wasn’t helping. Reaching over, he turned up the lights, hoping that the brightened room would help him think of a more positive outcome.

Nothing came to mind though. So, he decided to just try and forget it. What else could he do?

His thoughts began drifting back to the TV.  Well, they were when the lights went out along with the TV. In a craze he jumped up and kept flicking the lights off and on, hoping this time they would come back; they didn’t. Glancing out the window, his eyes settled on the lit windows at the other houses – was it just his place where the electricity died?

Streetlights started to flicker, and then they went out one at a time as though a ghastly breath were blowing out the line of candles.

He retreated back from the window, trying to remember where any kind of torch or candle was. Rummaging through any drawers he could find in the darkness, he was beginning to sweat and his movements were quick and exaggerated. ‘What is going on?’ he though.

Grabbing a torch, he flicked it on and barely illuminated the room in the weak glow from the aged bulb. Sinister shadows were cast against the walls from the innocent objects around.

His mind started pushing out imagination, trying to establish reason and calm; his beating heart slowing from the manic state it was in. Outside he heard the faint sound of an approaching, then stopping, car. His thoughts wondered back to his pizza – ‘Is that car maybe him already?’

Then, in what seemed like no time at all, the harsh pounding of the front door began. He shone the torch at the hanging clock; it had only been seven or eight minutes. Surely it couldn’t be the pizza, but who else was he expecting?

The phone call... A shiver ran down his spine as his dark thoughts returned. He could only think that there must be some disfigured, ghastly axe-wielding maniac waiting for him behind the door – or maybe not.

Still, he had to check. Maybe it was his pizza and he just got the time he called wrong - just maybe.

He knew he should answer the door, but took a detour through the kitchen to make sure. Glaring at the hastily written note in the slight light, it seemed he was right – it had only been eight minutes. Who was it then?

He couldn’t put it off any more. Slowly, he dragged himself to the front door. Every second felt heavy and every step as though years had passed. It took every ounce of his courage to get to the door.

When he looked through the little hole, he could tell who it was – even in the darkness the gentle glow was enough to distinguish. Nothing his creativity produced could have been as horrible as the truth. He fell back with eyes wide and mouth gaping, staggering towards the kitchen.

If his parents knew, they would have never left him there. Surely they wouldn’t. Would they?

Now he was wishing it was some mutant or murderer. How this could have happened to him. ‘Please not again,’ he thought. Grappling at the notes around, he thought that if this was true there would be some evidence left behind.

There were shopping lists, phone numbers and other stuff he did not want. That was until he looked up at the emergency contact note his parents left.

Those fiends knew! What’s more is they flaunted it in his face without him knowing. Right there at the bottom of that little bit of paper was what he dreaded most.

He read the end of the note slowly to himself.

There was another knock upon the door, accompanied with that horrid voice beckoning him to open it.

‘P.S. Your great aunt Gertrude may come a bit early for her yearly visit – be a dear and help her with her bags if she does.’

How could they.