Welcome to the Spot Writers. The prompt for this month is to write a dramatic scene. Your heroine is alone in a house someone is breaking into. Today’s contribution comes from RC Bonitz, author of A BLANKET FOR HER HEART.
HER BACK INTO IT
by RC Bonitz
Moonlight cut between the heavy curtains, making a spear of faint gray light across the floor. Darkness, black and deep, clothed the rest of the room. Nel liked it that way. Light kept her awake.
She stirred and opened an eye. Was that a noise downstairs? Ever since Tom died last month she’d been as jumpy as a feral cat. Rolling over in the bed, she closed her eyes again. She had to settle down at night, this wakefulness could not go on. Nerves, that’s all it was, an old woman’s agitated nerves.
Squeak. Nel sat bolt upright in her bed. That was definitely a real sound, not imagination, a door, the back door opening? What else could it be? She shivered in the darkness, strained her ears to hear. A whisper of a wind parted the curtains. Gray light filtered through the room for just a moment and then the curtain closed again. Completely.
She waited, daring not to breathe. Faint, there it was, something in the kitchen down below her. Something, someone moving in her house. A animal? A thief? Or worse?
Fingers fumbling, she reached for the bedside phone. Picked it up, keyed it in the dark. Silence. No dial tone? How could that be? Her hand shook. Whoever it was, he was, he wanted to make sure she couldn’t call for help. Where was her cell phone? Downstairs in her purse! In the kitchen where he was. Oh God, why had she been so careless.
A floorboard creaked, and then another. He was heading for the stairs. Who knew her house so well? Someone she knew? Someone who’d kill to silence her after he got his kicks. Her stomach knotted, sweat broke out, she had to keep herself together. If she only had a gun.
A stair creaked, he was coming up. The bat! The old bat they used to play softball with at family picnics.
Nel slipped out of bed and felt around beneath the box spring. Nothing but carpet. Where the dickens was it. She leaned down, shoved her arm further under the bed. A creak on the stairs. He was coming. Finally. Her fingers closed around the bat.
Another stair gave out a warning. Near the top now, coming for her. What could she do, a frail old woman with a heavy baseball bat. Tom’s words came out of nowhere,, from a softball game so many years ago, ‘put your back into it, Nel’. She stood up beside the door, bat ready, shaking, waiting.
One more creak, the top step now. She held her breath. The door jerked, a stick of light from the hall crept in. The door flew open, banged against the wall. His breathing followed, hard and fast, as he stepped into the room.
She put her back into it.
The Spot Writers–our members:
RC Bonitz: http://www.rcbonitz.com
Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/
Catherine A. MacKenzie: http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/
Kathy Price: http://www.kathylprice.com