On a Spooky Autumn Night
It was past ten o’clock on a quiet November night. The curtains all over the house were drawn. There was a feeling of stillness to the evening. It was midweek, and people were in their homes relaxing before getting ready for bed. I still was not ready to retire for the night. My teapot was perched on top of the old-fashioned kettle, contentedly simmering as it brewed the tea. I sat at the kitchen table, swinging my legs back and forth as I watched a ‘who-done-it’ on my iPad. Many years ago, a physician had instructed me to swing my legs to alleviate the pain in my knees. It had become a habit, especially when I get excited. I was excited at that moment. The film I was watching was a Swedish film, and I was holding my breath in suspense. The bad guy was a nondescript, studious, slightly overweight, harmless-looking, middle-aged character. Yet, at times he peered at you right through the screen and gave an intense, malevolent look that sent chills up and down my spine from fear. He had already murdered the Swedish prime minister. I feared for his quiet, docile wife. I was concerned that he would kill her at any moment as well. I planted my elbows firmly on the table, joined my hands together, and cupped my face between them. I watched with bated breath. My heart was pounding so hard, I was sure it was in danger of leaping out of my rib cage and hurrying away as fast as it could. I was breathless and gasping in fear. Just at that moment, I heard the doorbell. I raised my head and I listened. The doorbell rang once more; my blood ran cold in my veins. It was past ten o’clock in the evening. Nobody called on me at such a time. I wondered what to do. I have two sets of doors on each of the exit doors, the main door and the screen doors; moreover, there were three sets of locks on each door. I did not know what to do. Should I ignore the ringing of the doorbell? What if it was one of my neighbors seeking help? Finally, I called out, “Who is it?” No one answered. They rang the doorbell once more. My heart was pounding loudly in my chest! And yet again, they rang the doorbell. I switched on the outside lights and opened the front door, but not the screen door. I ensured both locks were secured. A man stood on the stoop, staring at me balefully, not saying a word. My knees turned to jelly, but I did not allow my fear to show. “What do you want?” I asked in a cold, angry voice. Surreptitiously, I looked up and down the street to see if any of my neighbors were perhaps walking a dog. But the street was silent; not a soul was out. Moreover, all the curtains were drawn. Not a soul was about. I drew a deep, silent breath. “Dear God, give me courage,” I prayed. Once more, in a cold, stern, and loud voice, I asked again, “WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DO YOU WANT! WHAT DO YOU WANT!” The stranger looked at me uncertainly, then he seemed to look at his feet. “Sorry,” he said and walked away. I quickly locked the door, switched off the lights, and leaned against the door, gasping in relief. I then walked back to the kitchen. The kettle was still simmering contentedly on the fire. With shaking hands, I poured myself a cup of tea and sat down to continue watching the who-done-it murder mystery.