Every night once our daughters succumb to sleep, I savor a cup of herbal tea, the day’s newspaper and an over-sized bowl of granola. If you’re inclined to watch my sacred evening ritual, please show some respect. Use a pair of binoculars like a normal human being and observe from a distance. Do not stare with your face pressed up against our kitchen window. Staring is rude. And dangerous. Though mild-mannered by day, I’ll happily rip out your intestines if you interrupt my nightly feeding. Or threaten my family.
Spooky Windows (Image Courtesy of Colin Smith via Wikimedia Commons)
Alone with our two daughters, my husband in Houston overnight on business, I’d waited all evening for those precious moments of unfettered me time. Simple pleasures awaited: a crossword puzzle, crunchy snacks, and blissful quiet. What could be better?
The flash of white caught my eye first. As I rose to reheat my tea in the microwave, I sensed movement outside. The convergence of light on our kitchen window illuminated a jaw and a covered forearm. Or a figment of my imagination.
I froze. Stared.
The open wooden blinds and a glare from the pendant lights over the kitchen island obscured my view. Because our kitchen overlooks a poorly lit alley, I saw nothing but my own reflection.
I waited, holding my breath. And watched.
Nothing.
I fought the temptation to approach the window. With visions of a deranged killer breaking the glass, I knew such a move would be an outright act of stupidity. Apparently, my appetite for scary movies as a teenager was paying off in that moment.
As my heart slowed down, I calmed myself, “Relax. You’re tired. Stop scaring yourself.”
I returned to my crossword puzzle. Word for “lethal weapon.”
“Does ‘paranoia’ fit?” I joked to myself.
On my best days, my sleep-deprived imagination conjures catastrophes out of mundane occurrences. Knowing I needed sleep more than obsession, I finished my snack and carried my bowl to the dishwasher, casting furtive glances over my shoulder at the window.
My movements around the kitchen felt unnatural, forced; as if I were acting in a bad play. Resisting the temptation to look out the window again, I pretended to yawn and stretch, exaggerating each movement; attempting to appear casual and oblivious to anyone who might be watching.
Nothing.
“Go to bed, Mary. No one is there,” I soothed.
I cleared the counter of stray papers and flipped the nearby light switch, instinctively looking at the window one last time.
And there he was.
The details in shadow, I could clearly see a young man’s face pressed against the glass. A short, bulky, bulldog of a man.
Mouth ajar, I didn’t scream, didn’t move. Stared. My mind read blank. A feeling of terror mixed with rage electrified my veins.
He appeared to be wearing a dark jacket with a big white “I” on his chest. As I flicked the lights on again and rushed to grab the telephone, the man turned and ran.
Panicked and confused, my first instinct was to call my husband. He answered after the second, ungodly long, ring.
The sound of Mike’s familiar, calm voice instantly brought me to tears. Perhaps he thought I had replaced my nightly snack with a more lively elixir, but he sounded annoyingly undisturbed by my description of the night’s events. His attempts to calm (read placate) me by suggesting the intruder was likely a student from the nearby university playing a prank or our oft-drunk neighbor mistaking our back door for his own did little to reduce my anxiety.
Mike stayed on the phone with me as I dialed the police who dispatched a patrol car to check the alley behind our home. Mike suggested we install a fence and a locked gate around our back deck and assured me he’d mount a motion-sensitive light outside when he returned home the next afternoon.
After another cup of tea to calm my nerves, I pushed a chair under the locked back door and finally fell asleep to the sound of far off police sirens.
The following morning, our college-aged babysitter called in tears, “A good friend of mine died last night. He was hit by a car on campus, not far from your house. I won’t be able to babysit for a few days.”
When our babysitter returned several days later, she showed me a picture of her friend, a strikingly handsome young man with a welcoming grin and a wrestler’s stature and physique. In the photo, her friend wore a dark blue jacket emblazoned with the letters U-I-C in white on his chest.
Linking up with the great folks at Yeah Write. Check it out and come join us!
What a chilling and horribly sad story.
Oh my goodness, no way. That is insanely terrifying and sad at the same time.
OMG…my husband is out of town & my vivid imagination & I won’t be forgetting this. Ever. I am a complete chicken shit and can scare myself into just about anything…without all this help from you & your descriptive writing.
I actually let my 12 yr old go out to the garage (detached, urban) last night around 9pm to get a book out of the car. I admired her lack of terror while I watched from the 2nd floor window…asking myself what I thought I was going to do from there should my worst fears come true.
Obviously I was pretty sure she’d be fine and I figured I could spare passing her just one of my neuroses.
Great writing! Sorry your story sounds to be weird true & tragic.
I’m in awe that your daughter went outside by herself. I’ve already passed on that neuroses – my girls will be too scared to go out after dark until they’re 30 (approx.)! I’m also a chicken shit and don’t know how I ever slept again (although I don’t really remember sleeping that night, I’m pretty sure I’ve slept since then!). Call if you’re scared – we’re around!
Oh no! So, he was there looking for his girlfriend? It wasn’t nefarious, just hormones?
Let’s go with hormones … as terrifying as it was, I didn’t get the sense he was there to hurt me.
Oh no, how awful! Very well told. So scary sometimes to be home alone, but that ending…
I went back and forth on the ending most of the morning. I wasn’t sure it worked at all, but apparently …
Are you saying it is the same guy?
Honestly, I have no idea if it was the same guy. The timing was curious and the whole incident was terrifying and tragic at the same time.
It really is. So sad. Sorry for you and the young man.
This is so creepy! Was it him before he was hit by the car, or after?
Oooh, I like the way you think! I don’t know, but I like your version better – after, definitely!
Nicely done!
Thanks! That means a lot coming from you
!
Yikes! How awful! I would still be wondering why he was looking in your window, though.
Yes. I have no idea really. My evening ritual is truly not that exciting.
OH MAN!! That’s freaky and awful and… freaky!!! What the hey???!!!
I know!!
Wait did this happen? I am so scared and intrigued. What does it all mean? How did you ever sleep after this? Gah. I would flip out. And I love your first paragraph– you evoked so many emotions here.
It did. Mike and I don’t remember exactly what year it was but I think it was right before I got pregnant with Rhys (though in the story I mentioned both girls mostly because I was too lazy to write one more sentence explaining that Rhys wasn’t born yet). I truly don’t know if it was the same guy, but I’ve always wondered.
OK, that is just terrifying! I loved your description of him. You had me so creeped out.
The twist at the ending was really well-executed. Such a sad, bizarre turn of events.
Although I wrote “man” in the story, I can only think of him as a kid, someone’s kid. So sad.
And thank you for the feedback on the ending. I wasn’t sure it worked at all and finally I just pushed publish cause I couldn’t stand thinking about it any longer!!
Wow,wow, wow. Just wow.
Wow is good, right?
Wow is so good.
SHUT THE HELL UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i, uh, OMG. i got chills with that ending. oh wow. WOW WOW WOW WOW. here i was reading along thinking how my speakeasy piece and this one were kinda similar and then you end it with that and YIKES i’m glad mine is just fiction. wow.
I love your comments! Am heading over to Speakeasy to read you!
Oh, man — what a terrible coincidence. Or not. I’d have been terrified, too.
Oh my gosh, this gave me chills. Just the scariness of seeing someone looking in your house, but then the idea that it could have been his ghost looking in at your! Brrrr..
Well told!
I’m really loving the ghost angle … I’m not a big believer. But I can learn! Off to read your post!
Spookiest story yet for the October fright fest at Yeah Write….
That is just so freaky. I would not have handled it nearly was well as you did – I would have been a creaming lunatic – would not have held myself together – and the death – a really bizarre coincidence. And gorgeous writing – as always.
I hear you on the screaming lunatic – I usually save that role for my husband and kids! ;-0 I’m guessing the only reason I held myself together at all was to not wake Ava. And to make sure I got to finish my cereal!
Wow. Chilling. All of it. I found the end – the revelation – strangely comforting. I can’t imagine how scary it must have been for you to see this strange man at your window, especially being alone in the house. But, there’s something about him ‘showing up’ like that at your house that makes me think maybe you were a stop along the way to a peaceful place. That’s what I hope anyway.
I love your version. I’m now stealing it
! Here’s to a peaceful place for him.
Eep! Chilling. I would’ve been terrified. I’m thankful every time my husband goes out of town that we have very noisy dogs outside. Nothing gets past them.
Dogs it is! Ever since I wrote this the other day, I’ve been feeling scared and vulnerable. Am getting up from computer to close the blinds right now! Thanks so much for visiting!
Seriously creepy! We have a bathroom at the front of the house (so ground level) with shutters and I’ve often thought, “what if I opened the shutters now and there was a face right there?” I’m pretty sure my heart would stop just from the shock of it. I didn’t see that ending coming – whoa!
That would be scary! Whenever, I look out our kitchen window at night, I wonder if I’ll see someone again. It’s a scary, curious feeling!
Oh. My. Gosh. How terrifying and so awful! I am so impressed you didn’t run screaming around the house and grabbed your kids and flew away in the car. Praying you get a security system for your home and that you can regain some peace back into your much needed, much deserved “quiet” time at the end of the day!!
Thank you! I do feel much safer now and am about to enjoy my bowl of cereal and a cup of tea right now! First I’ll shut the blinds!
Oh wow!!
Fiction? Fiction? It seems so real! If it’s real, I have total chills. If it’s fiction, you need to write a novel, woman!
It’s real, alright! Do I still get to write a novel?
Oh man, I thought this was going to be about dealing with a kid who has night terrors…. That ending sure took me by surprise! What a creepy thing to have happen to you! I would totally freak out and not know what to do. Perfect story for All Hallows Eve eve! =D
I could write a post about night terrors in kids also. My youngest had them for a short time about a year ago. Scarier than this story! Thanks for visiting!