(NARRATIVE) Frigid Interloper, By: Aditya Dharmendra Barki, Secondary 2 Passion
The door swung open with great force. Trudging through the cold, silent atmosphere, Elliot collapsed onto a light, soft mattress. He slithered under the covers into a position where he faced the television in front of the bed. Elliot quivered in sheer chilliness, huddling himself with the blanket wrapped tightly around his body as he reached for the remote. The winter gale raged just outside the house.
Unexpectedly, a sudden knocking from the front door disturbed him.
Who could be bothering me at a time like this? It's already past midnight!
He gathered what little strength he had and sauntered down the spiral staircase. Leaning against the nearly frosted door, he peeked through the peephole only to be bewildered to see nothing but the pitch black of night beyond his empty lumber porch staring back at him.
Somewhat annoyed, Elliot turned back, but before he could take another step, the same swift knocking echoed through the home. Elliot swivelled himself to the door, yet all he welcomed was the cutting blizzard breezing into his home.
By the fifth time, he blasted the door open, desperate to see someone but no, he was only left mystified at the murk of the wintry gloom. But then, an appalling feeling of utter dread washed over him as he could barely discern a figure emerging from the gusty forest ahead. It seemed to make brief eye contact with him - standing frozen on the lawn - before charging at a frighteningly expeditious speed.
Elliot slammed the door, inches away from slicing his fingers off, scrambling for the keys and locking the door at the nick of time. Not even a bang came from the door.
That is no human, Elliot thought, frowning his eyebrows in disbelief, unable to comprehend what he had just witnessed. He didn't dare look back into the peephole. But after some time, he raised himself from the panicked shrunken mess he was and scrutinised the bleak of the night as his final attempt. Just as in the initial times, nothing.
It's getting late, He sighed. I need to sleep.
Elliot looked at the wall clock. He could not think of any idea of what could happen but he concluded that the lack of sleep was getting to him. He felt as if his brain was running wild; he might as well sleep off his winter horrors.
Once under the covers, an alarming, familiar noise entered Elliot's ears. He became as stiff as a rock, his blood ran cold, and a drop of sweat dripped down his neck anxiously.
The door-
However, though the knocking may have been just a few seconds, it felt like it lasted an eternity. It knocked louder and louder, coaxing Elliot to investigate the anomaly outside his home.
A loud bang mimicking the sound of an explosion shook the house, causing Elliot to leap into a petrified ball. The door was propelled inward and catapulted into the wall.
Utter silence.
The susurration of the winter tempest began to enter through the fragmented door frame. Elliot was paralysed, cold and sick. He needed to do something about the intruder below.
Audible, heavy footsteps coupled with muck and sleet dripped onto the soft carpet floor. It seemed to know exactly where Elliot was since it became closer, closer, and closer.
Elliot slipped off the bed and rolled under the frame in an attempt to conceal himself in dead silence.
He watched with anticipation with his chest upon the floor - his heart was beating a great deal as the formidable shadow of the being crossed the threshold. The air around him seemed entirely motionless and quiet.
It stopped, the mud and soot-stained, rugged, leather mukluk - oozing with dirt - just outside of the bedroom stained the floor brown and cast a shadow that engulfed the bed.
Its intentions were unknown to Elliot, but as fast as it arrived, the sound of squelching mud on carpet began to fade farther and farther away, and out the front door it went. The tempest seemed to gradually subside along with it.
After hours upon hours of lying in wait, Elliot crawled out from underneath the bed frame. While on the verge of collapsing, he searched for what the interloper had done to the house but it was as if it had erased all traces of it ever being there. No mud nor shattered door lingered upon his property.
The sunlight filtered through the trees over the horizon, and that was when Elliot knew that the survival game had come to a halt, for now.
Image credit: Winter Tale by Oer-Wout on Flickr.com