Downfall

"Hello? Anyone there?" Jason said, frightened but with confidence.

He was well asleep when the peaceful ambience of his neighborhood was broken by a shrill screech that jolted him awake. He checked his clock; it was just after midnight. Sat up stiff in bed, he was unsure whether to investigate the noise, which sounded to him like the opening of a door, or fall back to sleep.

Then, he heard more sounds: a repeated thumping, like footsteps; shuffling and squeaking, like the opening of drawers and cabinets. Each sound injected more and more fear into Jason's mind, but each silence between them allowed him to grow enough composure to stand up.

Jason walked slowly across his room; hesitation fought his every step. He paused just before the open doorway to search for some kind of weapon, some kind of defense. He settled for a sizeable book from his bookshelf.

As he left his room and headed down the hallway to the stairs, the sounds continued unceasingly. He continued his careful stepping-pattern to avoid any revealing creaks from the wooden staircase. The stairs landed at the foot of the front door, and Jason turned around slowly to face the direction of the kitchen. He saw nothing yet.

Now, only a wall stood between him and the presumable intruder. Jason ventured closer and closer; past the living room, he finally reached the wall which held the kitchen on the other side. He posted himself next to the archway, tensed his muscles for the moment his brain decided to act. His thoughts raced through all the possibilities. This stalemate had to end.

Jason decided to act. The cacophonous racket suddenly ceased. He whipped around the wall to find a dark figure stood plainly in the center of the kitchen. The figure twisted his torso around, surely aroused by Jason's entrance, and faced him. A thin strip of light painted only his eyes in color, while the rest of his features were suffused in darkness. Jason glimpsed two wide eyes – beady, hungry.

After that moment, which seemed to last an eternity, the man fled towards the opposite kitchen-entranceway, towards the living room and the front door. Jason chased after the shadow, who had now turned the corner out of his view. The instant he breached the archway, something indistinct hurled at his face. He was too late to react. Jason felt a brief, insurmountable pain ripple through his face before he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

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Jason suddenly drew in a strained breath full of dust and particles from the floor his face was pressed against. He rolled onto his back, continued to breathe consistently. Something struck him odd about his surroundings: they were illuminated in morning light.

The last thing Jason remembered was turning the corner in chase of his intruder. His laborious thinking brought about an intense pain from his head. He went to touch and reeled away the second his finger made contact. I guess that fills in what happened, he thought.

He pushed himself off the floor, became dizzy in the process. In his stupor, he reasoned his first action should be to call the police.

An hour later, a police-car strode down the neighborhood of copy-paste townhouses, stirred up the ruddy leaves which crowded the street-gutters. Jason tracked it, saw it pull over on the street before his driveway. Through the glass of his front door, Jason watched the officer walk up to it; although he knew it was coming, the officer's commanding knock still startled him.

"Morning, son. I'm Deputy Clark, responding to your call. Are you alright?"

Jason realized he was still only in his boxers. "Oh, sorry, I'm alright."

"Don't worry, son. Can I come in?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course."

The deputy strolled into the living room; Jason closed the door and stood there.