The day started ordinarily enough. Wake up, shower, breakfast, work. I was quietly seated on the lounge sipping my second cup of coffee for the morning after my parents had gone out, musing over my article I had balanced on my knee in the form of my laptop when it happened.

My younger sister by two years came tearing up our short drive on foot, throwing herself at the front door of our house, scrabbling for the doorhandle as she did. Upon finally getting the door open, she flung herself inside and slammed the door, leaning on it as if to keep a wild animal out. Her hair was in disarray and the bags of goods she carried looked ready to fall from their plastic carriers.

It took her a moment to catch her breath, before her wild eyes finally rested on me.

“I’ve just witnessed a murder!” She gasped.

I blinked. Kelly blinked. There was silence in the room. Kelly continued to gawk at me. I was waiting for her to drop the bags and pitch forward in a belly laugh, with a raucous cry of “I gotcha!” But it didn’t come. She must read me too easily now...

I jerked awake, sitting bolt upright in my bed. I longed to pant but I held my breath and listened, my ears straining in the silence.

Nothing.

I released my pent in breath slowly, and I looked towards the window. I loud crash had awoken me, but the silence around me told me it was probably a dream. I rubbed my eyes, and looked at the clock. 4:00am. I looked again to the window, where beyond the white window frame the inky night lurked. I pushed back the bed covers and came to my feet. Opening the window, I took a deep lungful of night air. Was it just me? Or was my sixth sense telling me something was not right? I listened again, and with a jolt, I realized what was wrong: no crickets. I felt a chill crawl up my skin. Burglars?

I snatched up my dressing gown and put it on. Slowly, I inched my bedroom door open, and quietly tip toed to the top of the stairs descending from my upstairs bedroom. As I peered down, my heart leapt into my mouth. There was a light on in my kitchen! Someone was in my house!

“Oh, Lord...” I breathed. “What do I do?”

I crept slowly back to my room and peered around it, looking for a weapon. I spied on my dresser, a gold painted rock that my niece had given me. I picked it up, weighing it in my hand. Perfect. I then dived under the bed, and pulled out my screwdriver set, selecting the biggest and pointiest one there was. I was ready.

Back down the stairs, I peeked into the kitchen. A man all dressed in black was standing at the far side of the kitchen. His back was turned, and he was crouching down to remove my coffee maker. I fumed inwardly. My husband had given me that on our last anniversary! He stood up, and I ducked back hurriedly. I had to cause a distraction... a ceramic lamp stood on the table next to me. It would do. I dragged it off the table, and clenched my eyes shut as I waited for the impact.

The man gasped. Slowly footsteps traced their way across the kitchen floor. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Here was my chance! Taking a deep breath, the second he appeared around the corner I threw my rock, hard. The man ducked, and the rock went spinning across the room, crashing into the wall leaving a severe dint.

“What are you doing?!” He yelled at me. 

At once, I realised my mistake. Slowly his hand groped the wall and flicked on the light, revealing my most bewildered husband. My eyes widened in shock as I stammered, “I-I t-thought you were a burglar!”

“Of course not! I just got an early flight home!” His eyes twinkled. “Did you miss me?”

Fear forgotten, with a happy cry, I threw myself into his arms.

The black creature glowered at the white figure as he poked the lad in the ribs. “It doesn’t matter! What kind of soul would refuse a poor orphan boy? Just take the bread, and run fast!”