The opening and closing of his bedroom door did not wake him, nor did the patter of feet shushing against the carpet.
“Dad… are you awake?”
The whispered voice came through the darkness.
He rolled away from the sound, covering his head with his arm in a sleep-ridden attempt to ignore the noise.
The incoherent noises that emerged had little in common with human speech.
In the silence that followed, a rather sharp, pointy finger jabbed insistently into his shoulder.
The voice grew more urgent, although it still didn’t rise above a whisper. Finally, he rolled back over and faced her.
“What?” he said, half-glaring at her in the darkness. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened…. It’s just –“
“I thought I heard a noise coming from downstairs… Like someone walking around.”
“No – really. I heard something.”
“You heard something.”
“What did it sound like?”
“I told you…. It sounded like footsteps. Heavy footsteps.”
“Did it sound like that time you thought you heard something on the porch and it turned out to be a squirrel?”
“Or that time you swore you heard something on the roof and it turned out to be hail?”
“Or last week, when you thought you heard someone ‘trying to break in’ and it was a church group slipping pamphlets under the door?”
“No…. It’s – it’s different…. I heard…. Something.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, slowly moving to disentangle himself from the sheets. “Whatever you heard, I’m sure it’s – “
She never found out what it was, because his words were broken by sound of shattering glass. It echoed, a bright tinkling sound that would be almost magical at any other time, but just now served only to scare the crap out of both of them.
“My God,” he whispered. “Someone is in the house.”
(write for) 15 minutes * dialogue * shattered glass
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