Scratch

It was seven o’clock in the evening. It was too late to walk my dog, Skipper.

The sun had gone down, and the wind had started to rustle the leaves and trees that surround Hollow Drive. My husband, Peter, wouldn’t be coming home until nine and I had a long to-do list before work the next morning.

“Hey Skip, come here boy!” I called out.

I took his long red leash that hung from the key holder and attached the leash to his harness. I had decided to go out and tie his leash to one of the rusty metal pipes that protruded out of our front yard. His leash was long enough to where Skipper could walk all along the front yard and do his business and long enough to come and scratch on the door once he was finished.

As I opened my door to take him out, the sharp November wind hit my face and I instantly felt the stinging sensation build up in my nose. I exhaled a quick breath into my cusped hands to warm both my hands and face by the warmth of my breath that projected back at me from the little cave my hands made.

I quickly tied Skipper’s leash to the pipe as I looked around to see if any of my neighbors were out and about. The street was deserted. I guess the cold had made everyone cozy up and stay in.

“I’ll be right back, Skippy. Be a good boy and scratch the door for me when you’re done, yeah?”

I did a slight jog back around the corner, and up the stony pathway back to the house. I headed back into the kitchen to wash my hands and put the dishes away before starting on the laundry. I switch on the TV to have some background noise. The house gets too stuffy when doing laundry, so I open my sliding glass door in the kitchen that is connected to my backyard, leaving only the light, meshed, sliding screen door closed. I’m sorting out the colored clothes from the whites and towels when the show playing is suddenly interrupted by a breaking local news story.

“Breaking news here at PVLN. Family of three is found dead in what seems to be a late-night robbery gone wrong on Magnolia Avenue. Suspects are unknown. Please be careful and lock your doors and windows. It is the holiday season, [JNS3] and many criminals are taking advantage of this. More on this story tonight on our midnight broadcast.”

Jesus Christ.

Magnolia Avenue was maybe two streets away from Hollow Drive.

A cold chill ran down my spine.

I shuddered at the thought of the possibility that that could have easily been Peter, Skip, and myself. I quickly decided that it’s best if I bring Skip inside so I can lock up and wait for Peter to get home in about an hour and a half. I reached for my sweater on my kitchen table when [JNS4] I heard Skipper’s little scratches on the door. I was relieved that he had gotten enough time outside to do what he needed. I briskly walked out of the kitchen and into the living room towards the front door.

I suddenly got a weird feeling in my chest.

My adrenaline was slowly starting to rise. My hand got cold and clammy as I put it on the doorknob.

Check the peephole, I thought to myself.

I sucked in my breath and held it as I slowly raised myself to the tips of my feet and put my right eye slowly in front of the peephole.

No one.

I let out my breath and chuckled to myself. I was merely psyching myself out from the stupid morbid news story from earlier. I opened my door. There was no sign of Skipper on my front door. I called out to him, and still no movement, except for the wind that had seemingly picked up, even stronger than before. I called Skipper’s name out a second time. Still nothing. I shut my door as I grab my phone off the coffee table to my right to call my neighbor. Skipper has a habit of pulling on the leash so hard that he manages to pry free from his collar and run into my neighbor’s yard to fight his cat.

I completely froze and I heard the slow, faint, scraping, shhhh sound of my sliding door opening in the kitchen. My hands trembled as I quickly dialed my neighbor’s number.

Call Failed.

My illuminated phone screen stared at me and I stared back at it. I stand there, unsure of what to do next. I looked at the top right corner of the phone screen and my heart sinks at the sight of the words, “No Service.”

The wind must’ve disrupted the signal from the nearest service tower.

I heard a familiar jingle coming from the kitchen. Skipper suddenly peered out from around the corner of the wall that blocked my view from the living room into the kitchen. I sighed a huge breath of relief, as I bent down to pet him. I noticed he’s still wearing his collar. His leash hasn’t been undone, it’s been cut. I heard scratching coming from the door again. This time, I was fully aware it couldn’t be my dog.

Carefully and cautiously, I took light steps toward the front door and peered out the peephole again.

I saw a man crouching. Eyes wide. Maliciously grinning and licking his lips as he stares intently at the door handle.

My heart sank as I slowly peered down to my doorknob and realized I had not locked it yet.

Click.

I locked the door as quietly as I possibly could.

Scratch, scratch, scratch.

The man scratched at my door harder than the last time. My heart was nearly jumping out my chest. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I peered out the peephole again to try and get a better look at the man. He was ever so still, head bowed down looking at my door handle. I shakingly took my phone out of my pocket and tried to dial 911.

No service still. Battery is at 2%.

I peered out the peephole again to keep this stranger in my sight. I saw the man fumbling with his pockets, as if he was looking for something. I switched to the camera app on my phone and raised it to the peephole, in an attempt to take a picture of the man.

Ka-chick.

My camera was only able to take pictures of the peephole, not the images behind the peephole’s glass. I raised myself again to peer through the hole. The man was frozen. He slowly raised his head and stared directly back at me. Grinning. Eyes wide, not blinking. Without moving his head or eyes away, he slowly took something out of his pocket.

A small, folded piece of paper.

He unfolded the piece of paper, still staring at the peephole, knowing that the only thing separating us was a wooden door. I stared back in horror as he slowly raised the note for me to read through the hole.

kitchen door?