I want to go on record to say that I don't believe in coincidences and that everything happens for a reason. But we all know that sometimes things happen that push that idea to the very edge, if no reason can be found then what is it? Unexplained? Unknown? I sometimes have been known to just call it scary. This particular incident can only be described as that; scary.
It was on a Friday that I decided to stay late and finish up a project for work, of all days right? I was the last one to leave the office which, of course, meant locking up and setting the building's alarm. No big deal, I've done it a hundred times before, and on this night as I left the sun was setting low and dark clouds were rolling in with a low grumble in the distance; the storm was finally coming.
I live about 20 minutes away from work in a small cabin-like home outside of the small town I work in, high on a hill overlooking the town with the closest neighbor a few miles away in all directions. I live alone with my Aussie who is only too happy to see me when I finally get home and the rumbling has increased in sound and distance.
It isn't long before a clap of thunder followed by lightning opens the clouds to let the rain come pouring down. I change into comfy after-work clothes, heat up some leftovers, and settle on the couch for an evening in front of the tv with my puppy curled up next to me. A few minutes pass when I hear a beep from my phone, I reach over and it is a message from my boyfriend.
He works for the national park as a backcountry ranger and is currently stuck at a ranger station unable to get back to headquarters because of the storm. A few more texts talk about my day, missing each other, and now they got a call about some tenters having problems and he needed to go but will text later. I tease him with a text that I'm going to go soak in the tub while he plays in the rain. (His response will be for you to imagine.)
I get up and get the tub ready with extra bubbles and soft jets for a night of relaxation as well as a glass of wine. Cue the soft meditation music with a touch of candlelight for a special effect. My eyes are closed and I'm lost in the soothing massage of jets, bubble fragrance, and soft music when I hear something from the living room. I slowly open my eyes and hear it again. Footsteps. Movement. But the steps are almost like a shuffle and coming closer to the partially open bathroom door.
I'm about to call to my Aussie when shadows in the bathroom have me look down and he is next to the tub, standing now, with the hair standing up between his shoulder blades, I sit up, turn off the jets and lean forward. More shuffling. He takes a couple of steps forward and lets out a low but stern growl. The shuffling stops and I hear a click. He lets out another growl, louder, more aggressive, and there is a definitive sound of someone stepping back, two more steps, and then nothing.
My eyes are wide, my heart is racing, my hands trembling, and someone is in my house. But how? The alarm didn't go off? I quickly jump out of the tub and dress quickly. My phone. I look around and it isn't in the bathroom, I must have left it in the living room, I turn towards the door, my Aussie has relaxed but is still on alert. Slowly, I walk towards the door and peak, my Aussie in the lead.
Thankfully, I live in a ranch-style house with a very open concept which makes hiding hard and I don't see anyone. I slowly but purposely move towards the side door that leads to the attached garage, under the side table is protection my boyfriend taught me to use. In one swift move, I have it in my hand with the safety off, leaning against the wall. A glance over to the door shows me that the security pad confirms the alarm is on.
Then I hear a beep, followed by several beeps after. My phone. Text messages. I quickly move over to the couch and swipe my phone off the coffee table and look around again. No one. Just me and my Aussie who is staying close. I glance down at my phone and the first message makes my blood run cold. "Several unsuccessful attempts have been. If this was not you, go online immediately to reset your password."
Someone was trying to access my phone, specifically the camera and my photos. But who? When? How? I could have brushed that off but it was what my boyfriend sent that made my heart stop.
"Who is in the house with you?"
"Why are they taking photos of you?"
"Are you ok?"
With a trembling hand, I scroll up and almost drop my phone, the photos that were sent to him were of me in the tub with my Aussie lying next to it. The next is of me leaning forward and my Aussie standing on guard.
About the Creator
Nettie B
Welcome! Thanks for stopping by, if you like my posts, show your support with a tip, pledge, or subscribe. Also, check out my website at www.ko-fi.com/nbphotoart for more of my photography.
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins5 days ago in Fiction
60 Seconds
Sixty seconds is all it takes to make a minute, all it takes to change a life. They say just before you die, your life flashes before your eyes, and a timeline of images takes you autobiographically through your life. I don’t know if that’s true. I’ve never come close enough to death to find out. I do know images of a life you haven’t lived yet can flash before your eyes. It's happened to me more times than I can count. But each time so far I’ve been able to push the visions of a life I shouldn’t live away.
By The Invisible Writer5 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.