INTRUDER
By Randy
Romero
Tracy
Myers snapped awake, shaken from her slumber by a chilling nightmare. A cold
sweat trickled down her forehead. Her shoulder-length auburn hair was dripping
wet, her sheets soaked with perspiration.
“Just a
dream,” she whispered to herself, breathing deeply. “Just an awful, terrible dream.
But you’re awake now. You’re here, at home, in your bed safe and sound. There’s
nothing to fear.”
The red
glow of the digital alarm clock got her attention. It was a quarter to four.
She still had three hours before she needed to get up and go to work. But she
felt wide awake now and wondered if falling back to sleep for a few hours was a
possibility.
In her
dream, she was being pursued by an unstoppable maniac, brandishing a butcher
knife. It was so vivid, so real. But no matter how real it felt, Tracy knew it
was only a dream. And dreams can’t hurt you.
She
breathed a sigh of relief and rested her head on her pillow, closed her eyes,
and tried to go back to sleep. But soon, she felt the cold air circulating around
her, biting at the exposed skin of her face and neck. She felt a draft coming
from the left side of her bed. She rolled over and saw that the window was open
halfway.
That’s
odd, Tracy thought. I don’t remember living the window open.
The
reason she didn’t remember was because Tracy hadn’t left it open. The window
was closed when she went to bed, but she had neglected to lock it.
The room
was dark and cold, and the only light came from the red glare of her alarm
clock and the dim glow of the moon. She was about to get up and close the
window when she felt an unmistakable presence. Someone was in the room with
her.
Out of
the corner of her eye, she could see them. A tall, dark figure standing at the
foot of her bed. She gasped, bit her lip to stifle a scream. She closed her
eyes, pretending to be asleep.
A robber, was
first her first thought. Just lie still and pretend to be asleep. Maybe
they’ll just take what they want and go.
But the
figure didn’t budge. She could feel them looming over her, hear their laborious
breathing. Still on her side, she opened one eye and got a glimpse of the mask
covering their face. A creepy white clown mask with a bright red nose, black
lips, and blue diamonds for eyes.
The
blade glistened in the moonlight, reflecting her face, which was a mask of its
own. A mask of terror.
Dreams
can’t hurt you. But this was no dream. This was reality. Cold, harsh,
terrifying reality.
She
opened her mouth and let out a hideous, high pitched shriek. It was a momentary
outburst. Her screams ended almost as soon as they began, and then the room was
quiet again.
