First Annual Wild Violet
Writing Contest (2003)

Fiction - Second Place

Linda Hudson Hoagland is a writer from North Tazewell, Virginia.

The Night Walk
By Linda Hudson Hoagland

What woke me up?

Did I hear something?

I sat straight up in bed as I strained to hear sounds that weren't familiar to me.

Was that a footstep? A board creaking? Heavy breathing?

Oh, how I hated trying to sleep in a place that wasn't my everyday home and hearth.

A slight breeze hit my frightened face. It seemed as though a door had been opened and closed quickly, causing the disturbance of the air.

Perspiration was beading on my brow as I concentrated hard on identifying the reason for my sudden awakening.

My eyes were open wide and blinking only when it became necessary.

My hearing was being impeded by the pounding of my heart in my chest.

I took a deep breath as quietly as I could so I wouldn't disturb the night visitor that was causing my sleep disruption.

Slowly I expelled the air I held in my lungs as I stared wide-eyed into darkness.

If I could see an outline, a form, something that would tell me what was lurking in the shadows planning to cause me harm.

Should I get out of bed and make a run for it?

I didn't know where my night visitor was standing. I would probably run into him in trying to escape.

Is anyone really there?

"Who's there?" I whispered softly.

No answer, no sound, nothing was forthcoming.

I turned my head from side to side, trying to survey the darkness, trying to see something, anything that would give me a clue.

I slid my left hand under the covers slowly. I wanted to suddenly whip the covers off me and spring from the bed as fast as possible.

I felt a slight puff of air.

Where is that coming from? What is that?

I glanced toward the direction from where I thought the breeze was originating.

The window is slightly open. It's only a little breeze from outside.

That small discovery seemed to explain everything as far as my frightened mind was concerned.

I reached to the nightstand and pressed the switch on the lamp. The light was bright as it illuminated every dark corner of the room.

"Ellen, you're silly," I mumbled to myself. "You're visiting your Uncle Jim. No one would harm you. There is no reason for anyone to harm you. No reason at all," I said as I tried to reassure myself that I was acting like a child.

I was sleeping in the old farmhouse that was well over a hundred years old. It had many reasons to make noises. Parts had been literally falling off the house for years and years, because my Uncle Jim wasn't much for keeping up appearances.

"Go back to sleep," I said softly so I could hear the sound of my own voice and nothing else.

The dreams started rolling in full vivid brighter than life color.

I was running.

The tall weeds were hitting my face. I was extending my arms in front of me and moving them to each side as if I were blind. I was trying to feel my way through the tall weeds, but I couldn't see.

Why can't I see?

I could feel the moon shining over my head, but I couldn't see it.

Why can't I see the moon? How do I know it's there if I can't see it?

Running further and deeper into the weeds, I could feel the slap of the branches and leaves against my face. I had to continue to run. I had to get there. I had no other choice than to run to that tiny little one-room house sitting on the hillside.

The house seemed to be moving further and further away from me.

"Why are you doing this?" I shouted. "Stand still, please. Don't move any more. No, no please. Stay there."

I knew I was going to arrive at the one-room house too late. It would be all over before my foot would step across the threshold.

"Wait, please, don't move!" I shouted.

It was over.

My dream had ended, and I'd shouted myself awake.

I glanced around me, not realizing that my own shouts had pulled me from my dreams.

I reached for the lamp at my bedside so I could light up the room, every corner of the strange room, to check to see if someone had entered.

I climbed from my bed and tiptoed to the window, where I pulled at the shade from the side so I could peak outside to view the isolated area surrounding the old farmhouse.

There were no outside lights; only the moon offered illumination. Nothing was stirring; no movements were being made by anyone or anything that my human eyes could see.

There were so many darker areas where the illumination of the moon could not penetrate to offer some hint of what was waiting in the murky blackness.

I let the shade fall softly back into place against the window.

"God, I wish I didn't have to go out there," I prayed.

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