At first it was okay. No big deal, the electric going out. Not like it was the first time this had happened. Not even the first time it had happened at night.
At first it was okay. Then, as the minutes passed, it didn't seem quite so innocent any longer. It wasn't that any one thing made it seem sinister, or that even a series of things had taken place. It just was.
Marni paced back and forth across the short width of the living room in her little bungalow, nervously chewing on her fingernails. This feeling of doom was ridiculous. She knew it.
It wasn't like she was alone. In the house, yes, but there were others. All the houses up and down her block were in the same predicament. No power.
Looking out the front door, she saw nothing. Maybe it was the dense fog that made this time seem so menacing. Perhaps it was the paranoia of not having a phone. Earlier in the day she had thought to put her cell phone on the charger, but hadn't. Only yesterday she had considered going out to buy a 'real' phone that wasn't dependant on electric, but had done that neither.
She was the reason Hill wasn't home. He hadn't been keen on the idea of working a double shift, but she had made him feel guilty. Someone had to work for Kyle so he could be with his sick wife, and Hill was the only one available. He wouldn't be home before eight the next morning; nearly twelve hours away.
A sudden chill.
Hill had wanted to get a dog. She had said no. Between his job as a 911 dispatcher and hers as a party planner, they didn't have the time to train a dog or give it the attention one would need. It sure would have been nice to have the companionship of one now.
Stepping out onto the porch she strained to hear something. Anything. The sound of an opening door, voices, but there was nothing. No sound, no movement. Just the fog and the deafening silence.
Inside, she closed the door against the eerie unknown and began pacing once again. The flickering shadows of the candlelight only added to the uneasy feeling of the night. If only there was sound.
That creepy childhood feeling of being watched. She knew it was her imagination getting the better of her, but hugged herself anyhow. If only Hill was home!
Feeling childish and immature, she went to sit on the sofa. Within minutes she was up again. Pacing.
"You are being an idiot," she said out loud, just to break the silence.
As soon as the words had been spoken, it was like they were never uttered. As if the silence had sucked them in.
Open the door again. Her car was parked right next to the front porch, not twenty feet away. She couldn't see it. Was it like this everywhere? Close the door.
Taking one of the tall tapered candles, she went to the kitchen. Lock the back door. The last thing she needed was her imagination conjuring up some psycho serial killer.
Pacing.
Normally not a paranoid person, she chastised herself mentally for falling prey to her imagination. There was nothing sinister. There was no reason to be afraid. It was just a power outage. It was just fog.
A soft scratching at the front door.
Habit made her stop to listen. Fear stole her breath.
Scratching again. A soft whimper.
Internal struggle between logic and madness. She could almost hear Hill's voice telling her to step away from the door, go lock herself in their bedroom. Yet.. What if someone needed her help?
Once again feeling foolish for letting her imagination run wild, she went to the kitchen and found the biggest knife they owned. Knife in one hand, candle in the other, she once again approached the front door.
Standing. Listening. Only silence.
Letting out a breath she hadn't been aware of holding in, she set the candle on top of the cabinet next to the front door. Needing to abash the fear she'd let seep into her soul, but holding the knife in the 'ready' position, she slowly opened the door.
Only the fog greeted her. No more dense than it had been, but showing no signs of abating. As she began to close the door a shadowy form appeared, only steps away.
Small. Rounded. An animal of some type.
As the shadow approached her, moving tentatively, frightened, she saw the shape of a small dog emerge. It seemed to be a breed of mixed parentage, cowering at her feet.
No longer frightened, she knelt down to have a better look. The dog was shivering, almost to the point of seizure. When she touched it's head it laid down, softly whimpering.
"You poor thing," she said, keeping her voice soft not just for the dog, but for herself as well. "C'mere. No need for both of us to be scared little rabbits."
She slowly stood up, stepping back a bit, coaxing the small animal inside. He seemed hesitant at first, but then burst through the opening as if something unseen had frightened him. Unwittingly taking her cue from the animal, Marni slammed the door shut, locking both locks.
Heart pounding. Pulse racing.
"Well," she said to the dog, hoping to calm herself, "You sure did pick the wrong house if you're looking for someone brave."
Sitting down on the sofa, she patted her knee in an attempt to get the animal to come to her. In the dim light of the candles, she watched as the dog looked around, sniffing it's new surroundings before going to her.
"You are the strangest looking puppy I've ever seen," she said to the animal. "Look at those little ears! And your eyes… wow. Are they… green?? What are you, anyway? A cross between a terrier and a … I don't know what. You sure are a cute little fella though."
Petting the dog soothed her. She could feel the fear easing away. There, but not as strong. It was like someone had answered an unspoken prayer and sent her a companion to diminish the anxiety slowly building inside.
After a moment, the dog jumped up onto the sofa, laying it's head and front paws on her lap. It was no longer trembling, as if it too had needed a companion.
There was no collar, no tags to identify it. Sure she had never seen it in the neighborhood before, she wondered how it happened to be here. It didn't matter. In the morning, after Hill got home, she'd concern herself with seeing to where it belonged. Someone, somewhere, had to be missing it.
