It Was a Dark and Stormy Night
(continued)
By Mary Matus

I dialed the number of the hospital. Nothing. Complete silence. Not even a dial tone. This was not looking good. I tried to calm myself down. What was the chance that Freddie Krueger or some descendent of Dracula would show up in my apartment? Of course, that's probably what all the murder victims thought.

I wondered what the police would say when they found my body. "Alone on a night with a full moon? What was she thinking? Didn't she know that's when all the psychos come?"

This was the first summer I was living on my own, and I was beginning to have doubts. No, I told myself. I'm an adult, and part of that means getting over silly little fears like thunderstorms.

I hated to move, partly because of the darkness and partly because of my bad ankle. I managed to make my way over to the kitchen. I leaned against the fridge, my good leg feeling a little tired from the effort of hopping across the room on it.

I searched through the drawers. There was a flashlight in one of them. I knew there was. After a couple minutes of searching I found it.

As I turned on the flashlight, it somehow made the room eerier. The furniture I had loved because of its cheerful colors was now encased in darkness and shadows. I stood there for a moment stunned by the room's total transformation. A flash of lightning lit up the room and I remembered what I was doing.

I wished the phone would work, so I could call Mr. Harris, the super -- wait...what if the psycho already got to him? No. That's right. Today's his birthday and he was supposed to go out and celebrate with his family.

I wondered if fooling around with the fusebox would help. But I couldn't very well go down to the basement. I had enough trouble making it across the room. Maybe the neighbors were home. There were five other apartments on this floor. Somebody had to be home.

In the end, I decided not to find out. I guess it was my stupid pride. I didn't want the neighbors seeing me hobbling around in the dark. They would give me that look that says, "Oh, you poor thing."

I decided to give it a few minutes and then I would check on the neighbors. Maybe the lights would come back on by themselves, or maybe somebody else would go check the fusebox.

I slowly made my way over to the couch, where I sat down for a few minutes to think it over. Just as I was wondering if I should go see who was home, I heard a door squeaking. Why do you never seem to hear squeaking doors when it's sunny and there's people around? It always has to be during some kind of dark, stormy night. If it wasn't, it wouldn't send chills up your spine, would it? It sounded like the door to the stairs. It had been squeaking for weeks. Nobody ever seemed to get around to fixing it.

When I heard big, heavy footsteps coming down the hall, my first thought was, "Oh my God, they've come to kill me." Of course, I had no idea who "they" were or why anybody would be coming to kill me.

I could hear the footsteps stop outside my door. There were three loud raps. Must be a very polite murderer to knock before he slices you up with a chainsaw. Well, I didn't have a chainsaw to defend myself, so I grabbed the next best thing..a hairdryer! (So, I don't think well under pressure.)

I heard the knob turning. The door opened and a head popped in, looking around the room. I didn't give him a chance to come in the rest of the way. I raised the hairdryer and clunked him on the back of the head. The blow seemed to stun him because he fell onto his knees. (Funny, when they do it on TV, the prowler's unconscious for a good ten minutes.)

"Don't move, or I'll shoot," I said, aiming the hairdryer like a gun. Of course, the only thing I could shoot was hot air, but it was dark, he couldn't see, and I wasn't about to tell him that I didn't really have a gun.

He moaned and started to get up. Now I got a better look at his face. He was horrible! He was vicious! He was...my landlord?

"Mr. Harris? Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I guess." He began to get to his feet. "I didn't think a hairdryer would hurt that much."

So much for my theory about the prowler not being able to see anything. "I'm sorry. I guess the storm and the power outage made me a little paranoid. I thought you were a prowler."

"Well, I'm sorry, but it's just me. The party ended early and I wanted to make sure you were okay with that sprained ankle. Do you want some company for a bit?"

Mr. Harris stayed for about another half hour until the storm had subsided and the power kicked back on. "Be careful with that hairdryer," he said, laughing on the way out. "You don't want to accidentally dry someone with it."

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