It was a cool September day -- September is really the first time it starts to get at all bearable in Texas, and I was glad of the balmy breeze. I decided to take my dog for a walk; he was frisky and rarin' to go, and I could use a break from the tedium of my work-from-home job, which usually involved a lot of staring at a computer screen. I changed into a jean skirt -- it was my favorite "dog walking" skirt because it had a lot of pockets -- one for my keys, one for my phone, and one for the poop-bags, and I donned a low-cut tank top since, hey, why not work on my tan? I pulled my long blonde hair back in a ponytail and slipped on my sandals before snapping the leash onto my dog, Norris' (we named him after Chuck) collar, and we both bolted out the door. Well, more like HE bolted, dragging me behind.
My husband and I had moved into the neighborhood about two months ago, and in that time, I'd managed to explore a fair chunk of it on my Norris-walking excursions, but there were still a few uncharted territories. Given the pleasant weather, I decided to venture further afield than we had before; there was one road in particular that had always piqued my interest. It wound away down off the main road where we usually doubled back, lined with trees and sparse on houses, so this time, instead of turning around at our usual spot, I clicked my tongue at Norris and we both jogged across the street and down along that meandering avenue.
There were a couple of homes close to the corner, but after that, it was just nothing but trees for a good while. The sky was blue, clouds were few, and the air smelled sweet and pleasant, and I hummed quietly to myself as I strode along, pausing now and then to let Norris sniff something especially enticing. There wasn't much traffic, and I was grateful for that; when I spied a large field ahead, I hurried my pace, seized with the idea of letting Norris run. He had some whippet in him, and absolutely LOVED to run, but didn't get much opportunity, given our lack of yard. So when I slid through the gap in the fence hemming in the field and bent down to unsnap his leash, he was off in a flash. Probably smelled squirrel. I laughed, watching him race away -- a blur of black and white.
I decided to wander a bit on my own, picking my way carefully through the knee-high grasses, on the alert for snakes. It was probably a bit too cool for them, but you never could tell. As I made my way across the field, I finally noticed a house at the other end of it, partially obscured by trees. I hesitated and scanned the area for Norris; I didn't want to get caught trespassing, especially with my dog running off on his own. Naturally, I spotted him trotting closer to the house, so I jogged toward him, whistling to catch his attention, which proved futile. He wasn't so great at the whole "obedience" thing.
But I was relieved when I noticed the sign in front of the house -- a realtor sign, with the words 'For Sale' emblazoned across the top. I noticed, too, as I got closer, that the place didn't look lived in. It was a nice house, but the yard was all overgrown, there were no cars in the driveway, and a couple of the windows were boarded up. No one would come chasing me or Norris off, then -- that was a relief. When he started nosing around the porch, I simply headed over there, too. The house was pretty nice; the more I looked at it, the more I liked it, and my husband and I had been talking about getting our own; the duplex we were in now was just too small, and we were both itching for a change. I wondered how much a place like this might go for.
The porch creaked as I stepped up on it. Norris had crawled halfway underneath it; perhaps he'd found a cat hiding below. I clucked my tongue at him absently, but I was more intent on the window. There was one by the front door that wasn't boarded up, so I cupped my hands around my face and peered inside. The glass was grimy and it was hard to see much -- just a hallway and some stairs at the far end. I really wanted to get a better look at the place, now that I was seized with the idea of telling my husband about it, so on a whim, I tried the front door. It was unlocked.
"Norris," I called, in my best dog-mom voice. He poked his head up from below the porch, his muzzle lined with a froth of dandelion seeds. I chuckled and shook my head. "You be a good doggie," I told him. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back." And with that, I swung the door open and stepped inside.
The place was dim and musty, with a few piles of trash strewn along the hallway. But structurally, it seemed sound; I didn't notice any cracks in the walls or ceiling, and given the foundation troubles in our current place, that was a promising sign. I wandered through the large front room -- what seemed to be the living room, which connected to a spacious kitchen. The cabinets were old and the tile floor was pretty hideous, but nothing that couldn't be improved with some paint and pergo. I nodded to myself, feeling more and more optimistic. As I headed toward that back stairway I'd spotted, I glanced out a window to check on Norris -- I spotted him wandering toward the edge of the field, but well away from the road. I decided it was safe to explore just a bit further.
I passed a little half-bath tucked just by the foot of the stairs, and smiled -- two bathrooms would be a big plus. Yes, this place had definite possibilities. I started cautiously up the stairs; they creaked underfoot, and my hand slid along the dusty railing. It never occurred to me to be frightened.
The upstairs was even darker than the downstairs; the windows were all boarded over, and the sunlight only seeped through from the cracks between the boards. But there was just enough light to see a long hallway, with three doors. Three bedrooms? I hoped the master bedroom had a bathroom attached, and I was already planning a guest room in my head. As I approached the first doorway and stretched out my hand to push the door open, eager to see what lay beyond, I never heard the sound of the opposite door swinging open, and I never even had a chance to scream before a rough hand clamped over my mouth.
"What'choo doin' here, girl?" hissed a voice, low and masculine, as I felt him pin my arms behind my back. I made some sound, but it was muffled by his hand, and I couldn't even glimpse his face. He was behind me, tall and solid, and far too strong. I realized, with a sinking feeling, just how foolish I had been to venture in here, alone. But I could feel the weight of my phone in my pocket. If I could just reach it, I could call 911. Even amid my terror, that idea brought comfort.
"You spyin' on me?" demanded the voice. "You come to chase me out? Fuck that. This my house. Ain't no white bitch gonna chase me away."
I tried to shake my head, to assure him that this "white bitch" had no intention of chasing anyone off, but he was still pressing his hand over my mouth. I tried to struggle, but the guy was huge; he just tightened his hold on my arms like it was nothing. "Mmmphh!" I protested. I heard him chuckle. That scared me more than anything else.
