After the Door Shuts
After the door shuts and the footsteps fade, the silence is deafening. He just left me in the center of the room. Goosebumps sidle up my arms as I back into a corner, and freeze, sensing another presence in the room. Whoa, is that whispering or shallow breathing I hear. As my eyes begin to adjust, I peer into the darkness. Are those shadows moving? I need to search for a source of light, except he said not to, or I’d ruin his surprise, which can’t be a good thing, since I don’t know who he is. I didn’t see his face—he put on the blindfold so quickly—and I didn’t recognize his voice.
But I can’t just stand here waiting for God knows what to—stop! There it is again, that faint skittering sound—eww, like rodents. Uh, hold on, girlfriend, let’s back this ride up, that sounds more like shuffling. Whoa, now…wait one happy-damn minute. Shuffling…what the heck is in here with me that can shuffle?
Pulse thundering in my ears, like a blind man, I feel my way along the wall. After maneuvering around furniture that is sure to leave bruises where it’s bumping my knees and shins, I touch the hinges of a door, then the wood panels, and finally the doorknob. I twist; locked. And those sounds, they’re no longer faint. Either they’re getting louder or I’m getting close to whatever.
Frantically, my hands scramble up the doorjamb—the light switch has to be close. Trembling fingers touch smooth molded plastic, then the toggle switch for the light. I hesitate. Do I really want to know what’s in here with me, or should I just escape, now that I’ve found the door?
Several heart-pounding seconds tick by, my finger hovers above the switch like an executioner about to electrocute. Back against the door—reality check—do I want to see it coming? A tingling sense of awareness ends my uncertainty, when a dark shadow I thought of as a piece of furniture, unexpectedly materializes into human form. All-righty then, I can do light. Closing my eyes, I flip the switch.
Darkness enveloped me.