[Ongoing] A collection of unsettling or unusual short stories. Some have monsters, some have humor, some draw tears, some make you think, and some have artwork. Each is a revealing glance of someone's life.
Every writer has their own methods of comi...
Original story below, but you can find a completely revamped version in my collection "The Hand in Mine: and six other twisted stories with an Emotional Core", available on Amazon!
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I wake up to the annoying drone of a lawnmower, and I frown before I remember I’m staying over at my sister's. I hate ground floor apartments.
I dig myself out from under the heap of blankets and leave the bedroom, desperate for my caffeine fix. An abrupt sound to my left replaces the lawnmower, startling me, and I turn to it.
I freeze when I see two men standing in the living room, as stunned as I am.
They’re dressed like exterminators, complete with uniforms, cylindrical tanks, and gas masks.
My mind whirs to the beat of my racing heart.
They have to be disguised burglars who weren’t expecting anyone to be home today.
They bypassed the security system.
I have to get someplace safe.
The apartment door is all the way across the kitchen.
The only safe option is to backtrack.
Just a second into our unforeseen encounter, I turn and dash back to the bedroom, where I lock the door and grab my phone.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“This is Zoe Park. There’s been a break-in, two men, and they’re still here.” I give the address. “It’s my sister’s apartment. She’s at work, I’m home alone and I’ve locked myself in the bedroom.”
“Alright, Zoe. You’re doing well. Officers have been sent to your location. Can you tell me what they look like?”
“They’re dressed like exterminators and are wearing gas masks.”
The doorknob rattles, and I run to the window, only to frown when I see the other “exterminator” outside. My sister chose this apartment for its robust structure, but if these guys made it past the security system, a bedroom door and window won’t be much of a challenge. I have to buy myself time.
I throw the phone on the bed and drag one of my sister’s hefty nightstands over the thick carpet until I’ve blocked the door. I then hook a scarf around the leg of the dresser and pull with all my might, sweat cascading down my face as I heave it in front of the window.
I grab the phone again, panting. “I blocked the door and window. That should give the police enough time to show up. Are they almost here?”
“You're doing well, Zoe. Can you tell me what they look like?”
“I told you, they’re dressed like exterminators and are wearing gas masks.”
