Danny stepped softly down the stairs. Thime had been a noise in the kitchen, a kind of thump, and it reminded him of something he’d seen on TV years ago, which was vaguely terrifying. He couldn’t quite remember why. The early morning light blued the windows, and beyond them, the walls. He didn’t think he needed to turn the light on. As he got closer to the kitchen, through the arch at the bottom of the stairs from the living room to the dining room, he paused, gripping the edge of his thin, long t-shirt in one hand, and let the stillness sharpen his hearing. Normal kitchen sounds emerged — fridge hum, faucet drip — in the dim blue light, which also seemed to be rising, going yellow and white. He closed his eyes. He was imagining things. An atmosphere of normal morning pervaded. It was very normal. It felt a little too obvious.
He opened him eyes. Same sounds. A shade whiter. He pulled his t-shirt a little closer to his hip, tensing his elbow, and stepped toward the kitchen, keeping his eye on the molding of the door frame, as his view of the kitchen rotated into view around that axis.
Everything was, basically, in place. His kitchen was never spotless, but it was clean. Pictures sagged under fridge magnets, clean dishes rested a little precariously in the dish rack, oranges sat in a bowl. The dish-drying towel was left out on the counter, but the counter had been sprayed and wiped after dinner, as always. A wine glass, artifact of last night’s last calm activity, sat elegantly in the sink, with a small, deep scarlet spot slowly drying, as if hovering in the little pointed hollow just above the stem. Normal.
Danny let out a sigh and released his shirt. His breath returned as he stepped in and reached for the wine glass, to rinse it so it didn’t etch in the acid of the wine, and the light shifted. He looked to the window in response, and had to look up to see the olive-green fur, the flat nose with flaring nostrils inhaling, the piercing brutal blue eyes of the beast, and the giant teeth that gaped as the beast roared and pulled its arm back, in preparation to smash through the window and grab him.
Danny dropped the wine glass.
It was not what he had seen on TV years ago. It was real, and it was here.
©2020 by Nick Trotter. All rights reserved.