Before the Storm

As the lights started to flicker, I just knew it was going to be a bad night. The storm hadn’t even started yet. I haven’t heard any thunder or seen any lightning; it wasn’t even raining yet for goodness sakes. According to the weather forecast, the wind and rain was expected to ramp up tomorrow in the early morning hours. Yet here we are, on a Friday at about 3:00 pm with flickering power when I’m supposed to be working for another two hours. Clearly, I picked the wrong career path in life, it always seems like these meteor-ologists never get it right and somehow, they always get to keep their jobs. Yet it seems like if I even blink wrong at work, I’m at risk of being written up.

I guess it just comes with the territory working in corporate America, especially at this wildly micromanaged marketing firm I started at right before the pandemic hit. The whole firm transitioned to work from home before my orientation even finished. As you can guess, working from home has been no picnic and I’m almost excited for the return to office notices to start to roll in. Seriously. Then problems like this with the stupid electricity right now wouldn’t be my own to solve, it would be someone else’s responsibility to figure it out. Here’s to hoping the power holds up for at least another couple hours to allow me to wrap up the rest of the workday.

Ten minutes later… I literally cannot catch a break! Just as I was about to press the send button to submit my first campaign proposal (that was due by EOD for my dream client) BAM. The power’s really out now, like out for good out. Of course it is, but there’s not much I can do about it now, so whatever. Thankfully both my work and personal cell phones are fully charged right now, so at least there’s that. On my work cell, I send out a Teams group message to my coworkers to share my lovely news. Seconds later my manager replies in the group chat, “Ava, deadlines are deadlines… Please relocate as needed to submit your proposal by EOD as discussed.” Seriously?! I consider thanking Priscilla for her empathy, patience, and steadfast support in this matter but somehow manage to bite my tongue. For now. Instead, I reply with a simple, “Noted”. I scramble to get all my things together so that I can jump in the car and drive the 30 minutes it takes to get into town. I figure I’ll park it at the nearest McDonald’s to use their free Wi-Fi (fingers crossed they still have power) to submit my proposal by the looming 5:00 deadline. It’ll be cutting it close but it’s the only option I can think of since I can’t submit the proposal using my cell phone, it must be done through the portal which I only have access to via my work laptop.

I quickly realize my keys are not where they should be. Obviously. Why would they be? Man, things do just keep getting better and better. TGIF to me! I start retracing my steps since my last outing which was yesterday evening to stock up on food in preparation of the pending storm. The weather forecast made it sound like I’d rather not leave the house for at least a few days if I didn’t have to. So of course, I prioritized a box of wine and a pathetic number of Pop-Tarts, amongst some other household items. I wanted to be ready for potential power outages as this’ll be my first storm since staying out here to this rickety, old house in the middle of nowhere.

It's already starting to get dark in here now that the clouds have moved in and it’s grown rather gloomy. I really need to find these keys pronto and continue to rush around the house looking for them. In my frantic frenzy I finally spot my keys on top of the dryer. I forgot that right when I got home last night, I went straight to the laundry room to move the load of blankets from the washer into the dryer. I wanted to make sure I had enough clean and dry blankets to stay cozy under for the duration of the storm.

I snatch the keys and make haste back through the house grabbing my packed work bag as I rush out the back door leading to the driveway. The sky decides this is the perfect time to open up, just as I’m locking the door behind me. There’s no better time than the present, I suppose, as I chuckle to myself for not grabbing my umbrella by the door. Whelp, it’s too late now and I’ve already wasted enough time, so I opt to keep moving towards my car, even more quickly now.

I get the car door open and as I throw myself into the driver’s seat, I toss my work bag into the passenger seat. It takes me only a few seconds to realize that my window must have been left cracked open as my pants are immediately soaked though and I let out an annoyed yelp. Again, it is what it is, no time to deal with this right now. I stick the key into the ignition, give it a turn, and nothing. This cannot be happening; I really don’t have the time for this.

I dig out a phone from my bag and open the Uber app, I’ll have to deal with my own car later, I just need to focus on getting this proposal submitted first. Closest pick-up is 25 minutes out, so I go ahead and select it. The driver’s name pops up on my screen: “Elias 25 minutes away.” Great. Just enough time for me to sit here, steaming in my damp jeans, staring out at the sheets of rain hammering my windshield like an angry warning. The storm wasn’t supposed to hit until tomorrow. Meteorologists… overpaid psychics, if you ask me.

I drop the phone into my lap and sag back into the seat. My heart thuds a little too hard from all the rushing around, and now that I’m trapped in this idle moment, I can finally feel the unease creep in along the edges. The house behind me looks darker than it should for mid-afternoon, swallowed whole by the thick clouds rolling low like they’re hunting something. I drum my fingers against the steering wheel. Tick…tick…tick… A vibration shakes me out of my brooding. My work phone, buzzing in my hand. It's a message from Priscilla, “Following up on your ETA. Please advise.” God forbid I die in a hurricane without providing my expected arrival time to McDonald’s. I’m halfway through a classic eye roll when something thuds loudly against the side of the house.

I freeze. Probably a loose branch, I tell myself, even though the sound carried too much weight… like it wasn’t wood hitting wood, but something solid hitting the siding. I listen for another noise, but all I get is the wind shrieking in a way it definitely wasn’t supposed to until tomorrow morning. Another buzz from my phone. This time, it isn’t Priscilla though. It’s a notification from the Uber app, “Driver is experiencing delays due to severe weather. New ETA: 42 minutes.” I groan loudly into the silence of the car. I’m about to slide my phone back into my bag when a faint glow catches my eye. A single light in the upstairs window of my house flickers on.

My breath stops. The power is out. I know it is. I watched it die. I stood in the dark and cursed it. But the light is on, steady and warm. Like someone’s in there. A chill creeps down my spine so fast I can’t even blame the damp clothes for it. The house stands completely still, no other signs of life, no movement behind the glass. Just that wrong, impossible glow. Not taking my eyes off the window suddenly the light goes out. What is going on?! A new text message appears on my lock screen, vibrating violently in my hand. It’s not Priscilla and it’s not Uber. It’s not even from a name I recognize, just a number I’ve never seen in my life. “Ava. Don’t leave.” My pulse slams against my ribs. I glance up at the house again, throat tight and dry. Another message pops up instantly, as though the sender can see me reading. “It’s not safe out there.” I swallow hard, gripping my phone like it might float away if I don’t. The wind rattles something behind the house even louder this time.

My Uber is still 40 minutes away. Suddenly, I’m not sure if I should be praying it comes faster or praying it doesn’t come at all. My thumb hovers over the screen, frozen between calling someone or pretending none of this is happening. The storm thrashes harder against the car, sheets of rain slamming so loudly against the roof it’s almost impossible to hear anything else. Almost, because beneath the roar of the wind, I swear I catch it again. A sound from the house. A deliberate one, slow and heavy like footsteps on old wooden floors.

I lift my eyes to the rearview mirror, this time seeing nothing but the blurred outline of the porch through the rain. I adjust my gaze to the upstairs window. The same window where that impossible light flickered to life a minute ago. There’s no glow now, no silhouette, just darkness thick enough to swallow everything behind it. Maybe I just imagined it, maybe I’m just being silly. Then, my phone vibrates again in my palm. Another text from the unknown number, “Ava. Stay in the car.” That’s it. Nothing else, just silence. I listen hard, but there’s no more footsteps. And there’s no more lights. Just the storm tightening its grip around the house… and around me.

I lock the doors without thinking. The click echoes too loudly in the small space, and suddenly it feels like the entire world has narrowed down to the interior of my car and whatever is waiting just outside it. My Uber is still nowhere close. My boss still expects a proposal I can’t turn in. And then there’s my house… my house is no longer somewhere I can go back into. I take a shaky breath, eyes glued to the mirror, pulse pounding so hard I feel it in my teeth. My fear gets the best of me, and I frantically punch 9-1-1 into the phone. As I put the phone to my ear I hear those three distinct beeps. I pull the phone away to see “CALL FAILED.”

Whatever happens next, I know I won’t be the same when I tell this story again. If I get the chance to tell it at all…