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been told not to trust strangers and whoever it might be at the door was
surely a stranger, as I knew no one in the area. I tried to ignore the
knocking and turn my attention back to an old spoon but my shaking
hands refused to cooperate. The pounding continued and I became
increasingly afraid. Gathering what courage remained; I tiptoed down
the hallway to the front foyer and peeked through the stained glass
window. Although the image was blurred by the coloured glass, in the
next flash of lightening I could determine that it was a man, and a
rather large man, at that. He was obviously determined to gain access,
as he was still rapping sharply on the old wooden door. Choking back
whimpers of fear I crept back to the kitchen.
My thoughts were racing. Ideas for survival were formed and
rejected like quicksilver. Not for the first time, I cursed the local phone
company for not yet bringing the lines out this far. With no phone or
weapons, I was painfully aware of my vulnerability. As I pictured the
scenario of my violent death and even the lurid headlines likely in the
local paper, I giggled.
" Good Lord," I thought. " I'm hysterical!"
Forcing back the terror, I tried to think calmly. My car was in
the garage. Could I get to it? No, to reach the garage i would have to
cross the yard, in full view of the front door. Anyway, the roads were
likely near impassable. Where would I go if I did get away? Could I
escape through the back door and run into the woods? In the darkness
it would be too dangerous. If I fell and injured myself, I might never be
found. Anyway, if he saw or heard me I would be easily caught. It
seemed I was safer, marginally at least, in the house. Should I hide?
Where? I looked around like a trapped rat, my eyes darting into every
niche and cranny.
Think," I told myself. " Just stop and think!"
I went back to the kitchen. Being in the center of the house the
lights would not have been visible from outside so maybe he didn't
even realize anyone was here. Closing the door to avoid leakage of
light into the hallway, I felt somewhat less threatened in the perceived
protection of concealment. Searching through the drawers and
cupboards I amassed a paltry arsenal of two knives, a rolling pin, a
cast iron frying pan and a broom. Sitting down at the table I waited. The
pounding went on and on.
Suddenly it stopped! Had he gone away? Was he waiting out
there in the darkness hoping I would come out to investigate? Or was
he sneaking around the house looking for another way in? I sat silently,
straining my ears for any clue to his actions, but the continuing noise
from the storm made it impossible to determine any human generated
Object Description
| Rating | |
| Title | Write On! |
| Language | en |
| Date | 2004 |
Description
| Title | Page 5 |
| Language | en |
| Transcript | been told not to trust strangers and whoever it might be at the door was surely a stranger, as I knew no one in the area. I tried to ignore the knocking and turn my attention back to an old spoon but my shaking hands refused to cooperate. The pounding continued and I became increasingly afraid. Gathering what courage remained; I tiptoed down the hallway to the front foyer and peeked through the stained glass window. Although the image was blurred by the coloured glass, in the next flash of lightening I could determine that it was a man, and a rather large man, at that. He was obviously determined to gain access, as he was still rapping sharply on the old wooden door. Choking back whimpers of fear I crept back to the kitchen. My thoughts were racing. Ideas for survival were formed and rejected like quicksilver. Not for the first time, I cursed the local phone company for not yet bringing the lines out this far. With no phone or weapons, I was painfully aware of my vulnerability. As I pictured the scenario of my violent death and even the lurid headlines likely in the local paper, I giggled. " Good Lord," I thought. " I'm hysterical!" Forcing back the terror, I tried to think calmly. My car was in the garage. Could I get to it? No, to reach the garage i would have to cross the yard, in full view of the front door. Anyway, the roads were likely near impassable. Where would I go if I did get away? Could I escape through the back door and run into the woods? In the darkness it would be too dangerous. If I fell and injured myself, I might never be found. Anyway, if he saw or heard me I would be easily caught. It seemed I was safer, marginally at least, in the house. Should I hide? Where? I looked around like a trapped rat, my eyes darting into every niche and cranny. Think," I told myself. " Just stop and think!" I went back to the kitchen. Being in the center of the house the lights would not have been visible from outside so maybe he didn't even realize anyone was here. Closing the door to avoid leakage of light into the hallway, I felt somewhat less threatened in the perceived protection of concealment. Searching through the drawers and cupboards I amassed a paltry arsenal of two knives, a rolling pin, a cast iron frying pan and a broom. Sitting down at the table I waited. The pounding went on and on. Suddenly it stopped! Had he gone away? Was he waiting out there in the darkness hoping I would come out to investigate? Or was he sneaking around the house looking for another way in? I sat silently, straining my ears for any clue to his actions, but the continuing noise from the storm made it impossible to determine any human generated |
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