A Close Call

My mom called me this morning as I was pulling out of the driveway. I was on my way to the food store, but as I confessed to her, I hadn’t planned on going so early, as I had on no make-up and wet socks. But since there was a killer hiding up in my bedroom, I figured it was better to get out of the house while I could, rather than get my foundation or dry socks, which were both upstairs with the killer.

My mom assured me that, of course, there was no one in my room, though strangely suggested I bring a bat with me when I reenter, which I completely understood. She told me she hears strange sounds all the time and that it was probably (but bring the bat just in case) my imagination playing tricks on me.

Except, this wasn’t any old creaking sound. If I freaked out every time something rattled, groaned, banged, etc., in this house, I’d be spending my days on the front porch. No, this was a definite noise, sort of like someone silencing (because it was just for a few seconds) a ring tone that they’ve obnoxiously set to their favorite song.

And, while I can’t say for sure if there was a killer up in my room, he could have been your run of the mill robber, as morally opposed to killing, as say, you and me, I wasn’t in any mood to find out.

So, off to the store I went.

How did I not hear someone enter my house, you ask? Well, you see, the day at started out normally enough, except we were running late, and so I was forced to drive my children to the bus stop, lest they miss the bus. A smart move, except, that was the exact moment that the aforementioned criminal entered the premises, through the wide open garage door.

Of course, I returned from the bus stop completely unaware that someone was in the house, cleaned the dishes and left for a morning walk on a nature path, hence the soggy socks. Still oblivious to the man upstairs (and I’m not talking about THE BIG MAN), I came home and started to attend to the business of making my shopping list. That’s when I heard that strange sound.

I froze, and then, wondered aloud, “What the hell was that?”

Thankfully, no one answered.

So, I tentatively peered up the stairs, but saw nothing, not even a shadow. I contemplated going up the stairs and then thought better of it. I mean that sort of thing never ends well in the movies, does it?

I opened and closed my back door, as if leaving, and then stood silently inside, you know, just to see if some movement occurred once the door shut. Nothing. This guy was tricky. But he was not going to get me, not today!

I grabbed my pocketbook, soggy socks and sneakers and high-tailed it out of there. I figured, I may not look all nice and put together, but I was not about to foiled by vanity. How’s that for a cautionary tale, ladies!

I figured a trip to the grocery store was more than enough time for whomever was hiding up in my room, which I’m now thinking must have been a robber and not a killer, since you know, I’m still alive and all, to leave. I didn’t need to see him and he didn’t need to see me, either.

When I returned home, he was gone, and as much as I searched, I could not find the note on my mirror telling me how lucky I was that I hadn’t gone upstairs. I guess this guy was lazy, but I’ll tell, it was a close one.

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