Poor Thing || Trollhunters || Angor Rot

3. The Frightening One

Hall was covered in mud. Lumps of still wet earth were lying on the wooden floor as if a large bull had walked back and forth across the corridor. I immediately sensed that something was wrong. An unpleasant shiver raced down my spine, raising the hairs on my neck. The sun was setting, and shadows crept into the corners of the house. I was sure I had left the floor perfectly clean. My father couldn't have made this mess because he wasn't here.

My thoughts began to race, and so did my heart. I grabbed an old fireplace poker standing by the door, the one we were planning to scrap. Armed with the black metal, I slowly closed the door behind me and moved cautiously forward. First, I glanced into the kitchen. It looked the same as always. Then I turned to the living room. That too appeared normal. But my heart stopped when I noticed the muddy trails leading upstairs—straight to my room.

I swallowed hard, wondering what to do. What were the chances it was a burglar? And what were the odds he wouldn't steal anything down here? There was nothing valuable in my room; it was illogical. I shook off the fear and began to ascend the stairs. With each step, the creaking echoed louder than usual, almost as if the house itself were warning me.

It felt colder than usual, or maybe it was just the rush of adrenaline. With my heart pounding, I stood in front of the door to my room. The world seemed to spin as I held my breath and slowly opened the old door, trying to keep as much distance as possible. But there was no one inside. Everything appeared unchanged—my little artistic mess on the desk, a blanket spread over the chair, and the curtain half-drawn. 

Only the mud marks on the floor showed that everything was not fine at all. With anxiety clinging to my heart, I sat down on the bed and scanned the small room. It looked the same as always. Did I make this up? I glanced down at the clumps of earth scattered across the floor and leaned over to touch one. When the wet mud spread between my fingers, I realized with a sinking feeling that this was no figment of my imagination.

Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of sleepiness washed over me. It must have been the stress leaving my body, leaving me utterly exhausted. I sighed, giving in to the fatigue. I must have just had dirty shoes and not noticed it before; there was no other explanation. No one would break in here for no reason, and the door was closed. It all made no sense. I needed to tell my dad about it. I quickly found small phone in my bag. After few minutes he finally picked up. 

"Hello? Sorry to disturb you dad, but something weird is happening" I said quietly into the old phone.

"What's wrong, Pebble?" he asked, his tone distant and uninterested, clearly preoccupied with something else.

"There's mud in my room and at the front door. This morning the floor was clean" I replied quietly, crouching on the bed.

A moment of silence stretched between us. Then, Dad seemed to suddenly come alive. "Oh yes! It's my fault; I forgot some documents and went back to get them while you were at school. I'm sorry it scared you, but there's nothing to worry about." He explained hurriedly, his voice now vivid. "I have to go; I have a speech soon."

Before I could respond, he hung up. Why was he looking for documents in my room? Something still didn't add up. But since Dad said everything was fine, I had to stop searching for reasons to doubt him. With a sigh, I dragged my weary body into the shower.

After a quick shower, I cleaned the floor and headed to the kitchen. My dad had left me some money, and I didn't have the energy to cook. So, I decided to order a small pizza. While I waited for it to arrive, I immersed myself in one of the fantasy novels I couldn't imagine living without. Time flew by, and before I knew it, the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of my delicious dinner.