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The Intruder

My eyelids unlatch; trying to fight the openness my brain has catapulting towards them. I use a squinted quick glance around the eerie perspective of a dark early morning and the closed curtained bedroom, which I haven’t seen in years, slapping together the lips of my cotton-mouth. Let me get back to my snore in peace, rolling over and nestling my head further in to my pillow with a yawn.

Just pretend you never had awakened, now where was I…? …What was that?! Another noise… A clang of something moving that shouldn’t be down there, it was too real to be from the warmth of my dream; I was almost asleep now my brain has its wish and has me fully awake. Is someone downstairs? No, could not be, not in my house, that doesn’t happen to people like me. So I sit up in my bed and get ready to lay my paranoid mind to rest, then I shall do the same. I scan my room and outline the dark objects of the nothing I can see. I concentrate on a corner of my room, putting all of the focus into my hearing. Another knock! …I fold the sheets over on themselves, I need to investigate. Damn, my phone is downstairs in his paddock. Luckily my girlfriend is out-of-town for work.

If I thought my neighbours could hear my voice I could use the window, I wouldn’t even trust the way down, broken ankles are not my forte. Wait, why should I be driven from my home? I live here, I bought all the things he wants, you can’t help yourself to other people’s possessions because you don’t have… that pisses me off. There is no noise. I have never felt as alone in my solitude as my home is being overrun by a trespassers disregard to people’s belongings. I press the on button to my lamp to reveal my room in light. I scan the room looking for a suitable weapon to protect myself with; he will get the shock of his life if his steps lead him upstairs. I remember I put a crowbar at the back of my wardrobe for such an intruder, if that is what the tool is for than I may as well give it its traits back.

I step from my bed to the polished floorboards with tiptoes, I will protect what is mine and my new house guest raiding through my artefacts knows my face before he leaves and with my fearless attitude towards him I will become his fear. I step further using my head as I walk to that wardrobe, dodging the squeaky floor boards. I open the doors to the wardrobe and retrieve my weapon of choice in this matter. Two more steps and I am at my door, I place my ear to the door, Pocahontas can hear no stampede from my backdoor, there is still time to catch him in the act. I pull down on the metal handle of my bedroom door, I open it a smidgen. Now who is the undetected, I do a better job than he is doing. I slink from my door frame, thinking about the man who could possibly kill me, would he have a knife, gun or his mitts? The toughest part of the mission to save my home is the stairs, I have reached the top, fifteen more to go and most of them creak. I put my back to the wall and place carefully at the edge of every step my footing, holding on to my weapon with my life. My thoughts are racing, should I have let him taken what he wanted? And I stay in my room? I am here now, can’t back down, I could retreat and he could see me and all this effort could be for nothing. I have reached the bottom step; he is in the room opposite to the stair, I can hear rustling, what is he doing? The door is ajar a little, I have him trapped. The front door has been closed, what kind of criminal closes his quick exit?

I look through the small crack where the hinges of the door are located; all I can see is the dark silhouette of a figure. It is now or never. Nobody is coming to help, take back your home, now!

I burst in front the door, the figure spins around in the dark, I swing that bar to their direction, a clean connection with their face. The figure falls with a thud, he isn’t moving. I back up a little and flick the switch to the lights on the wall. I drop the crowbar then drop to my knees….. She said she was out-of-town.


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