No. 348

The sound of the rain hitting the roof almost drowned out the TV. Oliver Richardson frowned and raised the volume.

During a commercial break, he peered through the curtains to evaluate the miserable conditions outside. It was black. There seemed to be a power outage in the building next-door, and Oliver struggled to see anything.

When his show returned, he left the window alone. Hopefully his power would stay on.

Several minutes later there was a blinding burst of lightning followed immediately by the loudest thunder Oliver had ever heard. The sudden noise made him flinch, almost spilling his beer. The lights flickered briefly but did not go out.

Oliver took a deep breath and re-settled himself on the couch. “Just a storm,” he muttered to himself.

Before he could get entirely comfortable, he heard a strange tapping at the window. He shrugged it off. “Windy,” he allowed.

The tapping got faster. Oliver spared a glance toward the still-closed curtains.

Another peal of thunder made Oliver jump. The tapping continued.  It seemed almost insistent. Oliver’s nerves were on edge.

He turned out the living room lamp, to cut the glare, and tried to look outside again.

The darkness and rain still conspired to obscure his vision. He waited for the lighting.

The tapping was right there, against the window.

The lightning struck, illuminating the scene in a flash.

Oliver screamed.

There was a face outside. It wasn’t human.

A clawed arm smashed through the window, and wind caught the drapes, blowing them wide open.

Oliver scrambled to the far side of the room, fleeing from the invading monster.

He could see the entire horror now, as it crawled in through the broken gap. Large, gray, covered in thick, warty skin, it crept toward him on all fours. Oliver turned his head away from the terrible yellow eyes, and tried to make for the bedroom. The bedroom door had a lock.

The creature was slow, taking each step carefully, as if on unfamiliar ground.

Oliver reached his supposed stronghold and barricaded himself inside. He realized that at some point since the attack started that he’d wet himself with fear. Then, more importantly, that he’d left his phone in the other room.

He would have to face his attacker alone.

He searched the closet frantically for something to use as a weapon.

Finding nothing, he cowered behind the bed. Thunder shook the house, and the lights went out.

Oliver heard tapping at the bedroom door.