The Writer

Thomas sat at the desk in his dark room, his desk lamp the only thing fighting back the darkness. The paper in his typewriter, blank, void of the words staring back at him. He leaned back in his chair, resting one arm on its armrest while he spun a pencil in his other hand. Writers block had taken hold of him, his deadline marching closer with each tick of the clock on his wall. Frustrated, he slammed the pencil to his desk and let out a long sigh.

A flash lit his room from his office window, a storm had rolled in while he stared frustratedly at his typewriter. He got up from his chair and walked to the window. He thought maybe watching the lightning might distract him from his writer’s block. Maybe even give him inspiration for his story. His office window faced the woods in his backyard, they stretched for miles, all the way to the mountains. It has been a few years since he had the house built away from town, he wanted to be far from distractions and enjoyed his privacy.

As he stood there, gazing into the pitch black night waiting for the lightning to flash through the clouds. He felt a sensation on the back of his neck, as if someone was breathing down his neck. He quickly turned and looked behind him, no one was there, save the glow of his desk lamp. Thomas laughed as he ran his hand over the back of his neck. He felt silly thinking someone was in the room with him, his wife and kids were away for the weekend. She wanted to give Thomas some solitude so he can focus on his book. Just then another flash from the storm lit his office, casting his shadow against the bookcase, twisted, and jagged across the books. Then just as quick as it appeared it vanished.

Thomas turned to the window once again. Leaning against the window sill he pressed his head to the glass. His breath, fogged the glass with each exhale. He reminisced as a child he used to fog the window of his bedroom on cold winter nights. Drawing dragons and monsters in the fog. He smiled as he began to trace his fingers in the fog. As he slid his fingers through the frosted pane of glass another lightning streaked through the sky. In the momentary light he could make out the tree line, the kids swing set, and the shed in the backyard. But in that flash he saw something else out there.

Out by the side of the shed. Something that he didn't recognize as something that should be back there. Something dark that even the flash from the lightning couldn't brighten, as if it was absorbing all light. The image was so fast Thomas couldn't tell if it was human-like or some sort of animal. Thomas felt his heart skip a beat, his breathing stopped and his gaze fixated on where his shed would be in the dark. He was frozen to his window. His finger, still pressed to the glass. The condensation pooling at the tip of his finger then running down the window.

He waited for the lightning to illuminate his backyard again. He stared out into the darkness, holding his breath. He waited for the lightning to brighten the night once again. So he could see whatever it could be, out there, watching him in his backyard. Just then a loud rumbling sound from behind him The sound of hard plastic vibrating against wood, startled Thomas. He jumped back from the window, his hand clutching his chest as he turned to his desk.

His cellphone was flashing and vibrating. The image of his wife and kids flashed on the screen. A loud sigh escaped his mouth as he relaxed his shoulders while he walked back to his desk. A slight tremble in his hand as he picked up the phone and answered the call. “Hi babe, how are you and the kids?” he asked as he tried to hide the startledness in his voice. But there was no reply. He looked at the phone's screen, it showed the call connected. He put the phone to his ear again and asked if she could hear him, but still no reply. “Babe, I cannot hear you, let me call you back.” he said as he hung the call up.

He tried calling her back. The phone stayed silent, the screen flashed, then returned back into his contact list. Something was wrong. The lightning storm must be messing with his phone. He thought to himself as he put his phone back onto his desk. Then glanced back over to the window. The moon had found a crack in the clouds, small at first then it grew a bit wider and longer. The way clouds let the moon shine through, made the moon look like a giant silvery eye staring down on the world. He stood there at the window, staring into his yard. The little bit of moon light casted a eerie glow to his yard, just enough to make out faint outlines of the shed and swing set.

He tried to focus on the side of the shed, not blinking, letting the world fade around the shed. The world darkened till all he could see was the shed. As the shed seemed to become clearer in his vision his phone rang out. His head snapped to look back at his desk. “I didn't turn the ringer on!” he whispered as he walked back to his desk. Slowly picking up his phone, he flipped it over so he could see his screen. Blank, the ringing suddenly stopped, there was no missed call indicator.

Irritated, he slammed his phone down again onto his desk. “I better use the phone downstairs. She is just going to keep calling and I have no idea what is wrong with my phone!” Thomas cursed under his breath and headed for the kitchen—the landline was still there, installed for emergencies. He slowly twisted the door knob, its protest squeaked as it turned. Pulling it open, the hinges moaned as it slowly opened. The hallway beyond was swallowed in darkness. The silence pressed in on him, heavy enough to make his skin prickle. He shook his head, forcing a quiet chuckle. “Get a grip Thomas,” he muttered to himself as he reached for the light switch. With a quick flick the hallway's ceiling lights snapped on, casting a soft white glow to the hallway.

He made his way down the hallway, passing his bedroom, then the children’s rooms, and reached the stairwell. As he was about to go down the staircase, he heard faint giggling sounds coming from his kid's room. He turned and looked at the children's door, no lights shined from under it, no more sounds, just then a thud echoed from downstairs. Not loud, but just audible for Thomas to turn back around looking downstairs and frozen at the top step.

Downstairs was pitch black, Thomas had been in his office for so long that he never went down to turn on some lights. He was so used to his wife and kids being downstairs, playing or watching TV, that he never turned any lights on. He listened, waiting to hear if the thud would happen again. But nothing, just pure silence. He thought to himself it must have been my footstep, and continued down the stairs.

As he reached downstairs, he felt a change in the air. It felt as though a door or window was left open and the winter night air had flooded the downstairs area. He slid his hand against the wall till he found the lightswitch and gave it a quick flick. As the living room skylights hummed to life and flooded the room with a soft white light, Thomas thought he saw something or someone standing in the living room for a brief moment. But there was no one there. Thomas's heart was racing, was he losing his mind he thought. He normally doesn't spook easy, he reads scary stories, watches horror movies, and writes them. He reassured himself that it was all in his mind as he headed to the kitchen.

As he approached the kitchen doorway, his heart stopped, he was frozen in place. The backdoor was open, snow had started creeping in, covering the dark wood flooring. Did the kids leave it open before they left? His mind raced with anxiety. How long was it open? He looked at the snow building up on the floor, it looked as though something or someone had dragged their feet through it as they came in. Did an animal get inside? A wolf, or what if a bear got in? Was that the thud I heard? He hurried to the door, slammed it shut and locked the deadbolt. A sense of unease washed over Thomas as he leaned against the door looking back out towards the living room.

His gaze locked into the living room, scanning for movement. Not many places for an animal to go inside the house without Thomas noticing it. The door to the garage was still closed, the basement still shut, and the rooms upstairs were closed. “Whatever might have wandered in, maybe it wandered back out.” he assured himself. He pushed off from the door and headed to the landline on the counter next to the pantry door. “Best call Kelly back before she starts to worry.” Thomas said as he picked up the receiver.

As he pressed it to his ear, the dial tone humming, he heard the thud again. Louder, but this time it repeated three times. He froze, the thudding wasn't downstairs anymore, it came from upstairs. It sounded like it was coming from his office. Just then the dial tone went silent. Thomas clicked the switchhook on the base repeatedly, but it was silent. He tried dialing Kelly's number, but it was as if the phone line was dead.

Thomas's heart was pounding, he could feel his skin getting colder by the second. He reached over to the knife block on the counter, slowly and as quietly as he could, slid a kitchen knife from it. Slowly he crept to the kitchen’s doorway, eased his head out to look towards the stairs. He cautiously walked to the stairs, his eyes fixed on the top floor. As he reached the stairs, he paused, listened. The silence suffocating Thomas's senses, that even the sound of his heart in his ears even fell silent. He slowly made his way up the stairs, stepping as softly as he could on the wood steps. As he made his way up the staircase, a foul smell invaded his nose. It smelt like rotten eggs, decaying flesh,or something rancid.

He stopped just four steps from the top, covering his face trying to block the smell. He could see his office from where he was standing. His desk lamp’s glow was faint and slightly visible under the door. He stared at the glow behind his door. A shadow broke the light, as if someone was pacing in his office. He gripped the handle of the kitchen knife, his grip tensed to the point his knuckles turned white as the blood rushed from them. He slowly approached his office, his gaze never broke from his office door. As he reached the door, the smell grew more intense, turning Thomas's stomach.

Thomas slowly turned the doorknob to his office. It creaked softly beneath his hand. He threw the door open and lunged forward, the knife raised. But there was no one there, his office was empty. The odor began to fade from his senses. Thomas scanned the office. He swore he had seen something walking in his office, yet it was empty and cold. As he moved further into the room a flash of light from a lightning bolt streaking through the air and brightened the dimly lit office.

As the flash drew his attention to the window his gaze froze as it pasted his desk. The blank sheet of paper in his typewriter was empty no more. He could see words typed upon it. He slowly approached his desk, moving his chair from the desk. He pulled the once blank paper from the typewriter. As he stared at the words on the paper, his breathing froze, his heart began to pound against his chest. His hand began to tremble, his eyes scanning each line as he read the paper.

​It described him standing at the window. It described his walk to the kitchen. It described the knife.

His eyes raced to the final paragraph at the bottom of the page:

“A low growl came from behind him. He could feel a hot breath on the back of his neck. As he turned Thomas saw the darkness that was once outside by his shed. A shade of smoke that seemed to drain all warmth from around it…”

As Thomas turned, the paper slid from his hand and floated to the floor.