Rachael's mind raced at a hundred miles per hour.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid! You didn't lock the door when you went upstairs,” she chastised herself in her head. “OK, don't panic just stay cool.”
But her brain was finding it hard to control her body. Her feet felt glued to the well worn flat carpet of the bottom step. She clung on to the bannister, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip. A lump stuck in her throat and she couldn't swallow.
She slowly turned her gaze from the front door to down the hall and the living room and kitchen doors. Both were slightly ajar. She was pretty certain that the kitchen door was closed before. The front door was barely two metres in front of her. She was sure she could make it out of the door before anyone inside could catch her.
“Move fast but make a noise or move slow and quiet?” she thought.
She wasn't sure she could make herself move fast so decided to go with the slow option. She silently took in a deep gulp of air before painfully slowly lifting her right foot from the bottom step, desperately trying not to make any noise. The wooden board shifted slightly and made a small click but not too loudly. She glanced around to see if anyone had reacted and then gently planted her foot onto the hallway floor. While keeping an eye on the two doors down the hall she took her left foot off the bottom step and then deftly tip-toed to the front door. With her gaze still on the doors behind her she reached out for the front door handle and gently pushed it down and pulled on the door. Her heart sunk into the depths of her stomach. It was locked. She suddenly felt extremely vulnerable and cornered and a wave of panic washed over her.
“What now, what now, when will mum be back, what if he comes out, is it a he, maybe there's no-one…… oh shut up, shut up just stop and think!” her brain screamed.
She'd always scorned the stupid decisions people made in horror movies that resulted in them getting killed so here was her chance to show what should be done. The windows upstairs were all small and she knew some were locked as soon as the weather got cold by her mum and the keys were somewhere in the living room. Even if she could open them she wasn't sure she could climb out or if there'd be anyone about to hear her scream. It would be certain anyone in the house would! The front door wasn't an option. So the only choices she could see were to hide and wait for her mum to get home, go into the kitchen and out of the side door or go into the living room and get her phone or somehow smash open the window in there and jump out. She clung onto the door handle not wanting to move, dreading every option and wishing this was just a terrible dream she would wake up from any minute. She bit down on her bottom lip hard. It hurt and the pain felt real. This wasn't a dream.
After taking a few seconds to compose herself, Rachael crept towards the living room door, keeping close to the wall as if trying to camouflage herself in its patterned wallpaper. The living room door was on her left and the kitchen door was directly ahead. She slid ever closer to the living room door. Then the smell hit her. A foul, foetid odour that reminded her of the time she came across the rotting corpse of a sheep in a field. It invaded her nostrils and she struggled to hold back the surge of acidic vomit that churned at the bottom of her gullet. It was coming from the kitchen. She craned her neck in order to peer around the slightly ajar door. Her senses were in overdrive and her body stood poised ready for action. The kitchen was dimly lit by the microwave clock and a small under-cupboard light, but it was enough for Rachael to make out a figure stood at the kitchen sink. It looked more like a shadow than a man. Greys and blacks, slender and tall reaching almost to the ceiling. It stood with its skinny long arms resting on the kitchen counter, motionless, like a stretched scarecrow waiting to come to life. Rachael lifted her hand and placed it forcefully over her mouth to stifle the scream desperate to burst from within her. She dared not move a muscle.
Bloop bloop bloop
A message came through on her mobile phone in the living room. Time seemed to freeze. Her gaze stayed fixed on the figure in the kitchen.
“It must've heard. He's going to get me! Mum!” Rachael thought hysterically. “Count down from five and if I get to zero he hasn't heard and I'm safe,” she theorized hurriedly.
“5……...4………..3………...”
The figure slowly turned it's head until it was staring directly at Rachael.
A face of blurry grey with two pearl black holes for eyes that felt as if they were sucking the soul out of her.
“Aaaaaaaaaaggghhhhh!” Rachael screamed and darted towards the stairs.
She heard a swish and the thudding noise of heavy feet behind her. It sounded like lead weights on the end of stilts briskly running across the floor. She scampered around the bannister and scurried up the main flight of steps like lightning. Turning at the top to climb the final few stairs she caught a glimpse of her pursuer in the corner of her eye. A lanky dark figure at least four times her height with beanstalk arms and legs. It's face was shadowy grey with a tiny slit for a mouth and malevolent black eyes. It stretched out its scrawny arm and captured Rachael's left ankle in its clutches. She clawed onto the corner of the wall at the top of the stairs and heaved herself free, feeling its cold, boney fingers scrape down her bare foot as she did so.
The nearest door was the utility cupboard. She grabbed the handle and flung the door open before hurling herself inside and slamming it shut. In the dark she frantically grabbed everything close to hand – buckets, the vacuum, boxes of cleaning products and desperately hurled them against the door. Then, pressing her feet against an unblocked space on the door and her back against the rear wall she tensed her entire body in order to wedge the door and stop anything from entering. With her leg muscles pushing as hard as they could against the door she sat in the dark trying to hear anything above her frantic panting.
After what seemed like an age she managed to slow her breathing and the small room became more quiet. She couldn't hear anything outside. Her body began to ache but there was no way she was going to move her feet from the door. She listened, and listened, and listened. Then not far from the door a hiss. It was Miley again. She loved the cat but there was no way she could leave the small space of sanctuary she was in. Another hiss followed by a haunting wail from Miley lasting just seconds that grew louder and culminated in a loud thud on the utility room door. Rachael jumped and then braced herself against the wall. Then just seconds later those same heavy footsteps going back down the stairs accompanied by a lighter,
thud, thud, thud
down each step slightly behind it. There was no sound from Miley any more.
It had been fifteen minutes Rachael guessed since she'd barricaded herself in the cupboard. There was a small keyhole in the door, but the key had been lost many years ago. Through it, a small shaft of light from the landing pierced into the cold darkness where Rachael hid. She sat up, moving her back away from the rear wall and cautiously removed her feet from up against the door. Leaning forward she peered through the keyhole. Her view was restricted. Just a narrow view of the landing where the old clock stood. 11:20pm. Her mum would be back in about ten minutes. She was rarely late and caught the same last bus every night.
“What will happen when mum comes in the door?” Rachael worriedly thought. “I can't just let her walk in!”
She knew she would have to get to her first. As soon as she heard the key in the door she would have to bolt down the stairs, grab her mum and flee outside to safety. She waited. Once again ears straining for footsteps at the front door, the rattle of keys, the turn of a handle. 11:28pm. It could be any time now. She cleared the clutter away from the door and knelt with her weight against it, ready to pull it open and burst downstairs. She could feel the whoosh of her blood pumping around her head making a thumping noise in her ears. 11:31pm. Silence. And then a distant sound of clanking. A key in a lock?
Rachael threw herself out of the small room and tore down the stairs barely touching the steps. The front door was still closed so she hoped her mum hadn't yet opened it.
“Muuuuuum!” she screamed.
She reached the front door and yanked the handle towards her. It didn't give. Again and again she pulled but it remained solidly shut.
“Muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum!” Rachael screamed even louder, still tugging on the handle.
Her tugging became slower and slower as she ran out of energy and began to sob. Then she became aware of a foul presence behind her.
“No, no, please, no,” she whimpered, closing her eyes and not daring to turn around.
She heard a thwack and felt pain on the back of her neck. She suddenly felt sleepy and then it went dark.
Rachael could feel her knee on her lip. Her head was groggy and her neck was sore. She slowly opened her eyes but couldn't comprehend where she was or what she could see. It looked like the top of her knee and beyond that a box of light. She blinked a few times and then tried to move, but couldn't. Her arms were squashed against her body and her legs were squeezed up to her chest in a ball. She felt cold metal on her skin all around her and realized she was naked. She squirmed about but there was no room to manoeuvre. She tried again but then stopped when something loomed into sight. Twisting her head so it was the right way up she saw the bottom of a pair of long spindly legs stood right in front of her. Sheer panic rose inside her body at the realisation of her situation. She recognised now what she could see. She was in the kitchen. Near the floor. Looking out through the oven door. She let out an intense scream which bluntly echoed all around her. She tried to push against the oven door with her body but it was somehow wedged shut.
“NO, NO, NO, NOOOOOO!” she yelled.
As she did the legs in front of her bent and eventually a face loomed into sight at the oven window. A pair of shiny, black demonic eyes stared intensely at her. She tried to turn her head away but there was no room so she squeezed her eyes shut.
Tap, tap, tap.
Tap, tap, tap.
The figure lightly tapped one of it's boney fingers on the oven door.
Rachael reluctantly opened her eyes and the tiny slitted mouth of the thing spoke. She could hardly hear it but recognised it as the same low, raspy voice that had spoken at the door earlier. She stared terrified at the tiny black mouth, trying to decipher what it was saying. She glanced to the floor where her clothes sat in a pile and then looked back to the creature.
“Here's your trick…….,” it whispered, before menacingly tilting it's head and standing back up.
Rachael heard a click and a fan whirred into life behind her. A gentle breeze flowed over her back before a blast of warmth scorched her skin accompanied by the sound of expanding metal.
“No pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaseee. Aaaaaghhhh!” Rachael screeched.
She desperately tried to pull her limbs away from the oven walls but was being scalded on all sides. Hot acrid air invaded her lungs and she struggled to breath. She violently wriggled and thrashed about in her small cell but there was no escape. The pain was unbearable as she felt her skin bubble and burn and melt away down to the bone. She could no longer scream as her throat and vocal chords were scorched to cinders. Finally with the pain too much to bear, she began to pass out. As she did the figure at the oven door receded, became smaller, more familiar.
About half an hour later Rachael's mum arrived home and stepped through the front door. Her mind was full of tasks she had to do the next day, including working out how to turn the old clock on the landing back an hour which she'd been putting off for a week now for fear of breaking it.
“Rachael I'm home,” she shouted while heading into the kitchen.
She paused and looked around.
“What's that awful smell honey? Have you been trying to cook?”
Rachael slowly appeared from the front room. She walked down the hall to the front door and locked it.
“What the hell has been going on in here Rachael? What's wrong with the oven? What on earth have you been doing? Rachael! Look at me when I'm talking to you!”
Rachael slowly turned around before walking mechanically down the hall and stopping in the kitchen doorway. She stared blankly at her mother.
“Mum…………….. Trick or treat?”