The Intruder
Destiny awoke with a feeling of foreboding, unsure of what had jolted her from her strange, recurring dream. She flicked her desk lamp on, then got out of bed and scanned the room. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
She sat at her antique writing desk and grabbed her sketchbook and tools from the drawer to her right. Destiny paused, shivering, recalling the terror of claws ripping at her skin moments before she awoke. As her pencil moved across the pages of her sketchbook. A warm bubble of happiness flooded her mind. For as long as she could remember, sketching was the only way to soothe her frazzled nerves. Her stepmother nuratured her talent for sketching. When she first started, she could barely draw anything but stick figures.
It was late, probably midnight. The warm glow from her desk lamp did little to ease the sense of dread still nagging her. That dream again. When would it ever let up? The rain pounded on the shingles of the old Victorian-style house.
Her pencil guided her across the paper, knowing exactly where to go next before she did. It was not long before the familiar face she’d never seen in person, but appeared in her unusual dreams, took shape. An eye patch covered their right eye. They wore an orange shirt and black jeans. A jacket with a school emblem of a phoenix stitched on the left side covered their shoulders.
A flash of lightning startled her, breaking her concentration. She stared out of the window as another bolt lit up the sky, silhouetting a figure as it leaped from a nearby tree.
What on earth? She peered through the darkness, but the figure had vanished into the shadows. Is someone outside in a storm like this? Or am I becoming as paranoid as Dad?
The window burst open from the force of the wind, icy rain battering her face. She awkwardly reached over, fastening the latch before snuggling into the blankets, rubbing her weakened leg to return the blood flow and ease the pins and needles, cursing her condition.
Having cerebral palsy sucked. It was not something the doctors could never cure her of. Destiny could never keep up with her peers without becoming fatigued. She sighed, annoyed by the burning pain from her daily leg stretches. She dropped her sketchbook at the sound of a strange noise coming from downstairs. ”It is the tree branches. Nothing to be worried about. Go make a mocha that will help me sleep.”
She retrieved her sketchbook and pencils and slipped her dressing gown over her shoulders, placing her phone in her pocket, and headed for the bedroom door. She made it about two steps before tripping over something, sending her crashing to the floor. Cursing under her breath, she picked herself up. Her elbow burned, and a dull ache shot through her knee. She inspected her elbow and sighed at the sight of a nasty carpet burn. Falling on her face was just a part of her life. She was always thankful when it happened at home, instead of in public, where everyone would stare at her.
The brass door handle creaked loudly as she turned it, breaking the silence in the darkened hallway. She was just about to pass the door to her parents’ room when she sensed something rush past her. Destiny froze before telling herself her mind was playing tricks; the storm was setting her nerves on edge.
*****
She carried on; Her step mum and dad went out for the evening to celebrate their anniversary. Naturally, they had concerns about leaving Destiny on her own.
“Are you sure you will be alright? On your own?” Her stepmother, Selina, asked. For the eighth time. Her frown caused wrinkles to appear on her forehead.
Destiny sighed. irritated “Always worrying,” she muttered. Under her breath. Her lack of faith in Destiny grew more frustrating every time. “Selina, for the last time, I will be fine by myself. I am seventeen and I can handle myself for a few hours. Go out and enjoy yourselves.”
“The emergency numbers are on the fridge. Please be careful. Text us for anything and we will come home straight away,” her dad said.
“Yes Dad,”
Selina grabbed her bag. “You always give into her, Alaric, but I suppose for one night, Destiny could prove she is capable enough on her own.”
“Selina, I’ll keep my phone with me at all times, okay?”
“Alright, I’ll check in every couple of hours. We have picked a hotel nearby.” Selina said.
Destiny watched their car depart from the driveway, thankful for the alone time.
She locked the front door, and spent the evening on her laptop, enveloped in the comforts of the sofa and the blankets as the night crawled in, bringing with it a brewing storm. She entered the kitchen to the right of the lounge room.
And fumbled for the light switch. The warm glow of yellow light flooded the kitchen, highlighting the table where she left her tools and sketchbook. While boiling the kettle, she sighed, then fetched her favourite wolf mug from the cupboard and made herself a hot mocha.
Destiny suffered from periods of insomnia; waking at all hours of the night. During these nights, she was content with occupying her busy mind with sketching. The midnight hours were calm. During clear nights, she could hear crickets chipping outside, now replaced by the splattering of rain and the occasional clap of thunder.
She made herself comfortable at the table and placed her phone next to her tools. After entering the phone’s code, she selected her playlist.
Stretched her legs underneath the table, easing the tension in her muscles, and started sketching the forests surrounding her house. A massive burst of thunder boomed overhead, making Destiny jump. She took a deep breath, then a drink of mocha.
The wind howled against the back door, rattling it on its hinges and thousands of fractured pieces of glass scattered across the kitchen, and the wind whipped though the room, throwing sharp cold raindrops across every surface soaking her sketches in seconds, making the charcoal bleed across the table.
Her sketches flew from the table and whirled around the room, as though suck in a tornado. Destiny grabbed her phone and scrambled from her chair, knocking it over to flee the kitchen. The lights throughout the house began to flicker and buzz. Destiny’s heart dropped in her stomach as she cowered in the next room, fingers shakily unlocking her phone, before darkness consumed her.
Glass lay scattered across the floor, and Destiny inspected her bare feet, exhaling in relief. No shards had cut her. Something scurried across the kitchen counter, knocking pots and pans onto the tiled floor. Dared herself to peer inside the kitchen. A brick sat among the broken glass.
She found her dad’s number and sent a frantic text, hoping the storm had not cut out reception. Weird things are happening. Come home now
Something knocked the fruit basket over, startling her. A ring-tailed possum stared at her with rich brown eyes and rain-soaked fur; before jumping off the counter and chasing a blood plum across the floor. The plum came to rest by the brick. The possum grabbed its prize and took a bite, watching Destiny carefully as it ate.
“So, it definitely wasn’t you that destroyed the door,” she whispered; as she took in the kitchen scene. Her dad kept a baseball bat hidden inside the cupboard in the hallway, so she quietly shuffled to it and pulled it out. She grasped the handle and began scouting the ground floor. Starting with the lounge, she found all the books had been pulled from the shelves, and Selina’s expensive laptop had been switched on. A file was open on the desktop, one about witchcraft.
Destiny glanced up as floorboards creaked above her. Whoever had broken in clearly did not know their way around the house. Creeping back upstairs, Destiny resumed her search. The guest room remained untouched, but her bedroom door was wide open _ not how she had left it. She entered cautiously, noticing immediately that the intruder had ripped her drawing off the strange boy out of her sketchbook. She looked around, but nothing else had been taken. Leaving her bedroom, she noticed a soft glow coming from under the door of her father’s study.
Destiny crept over. The door showed no sign of forced entry. She shook her head. Her father’s paranoia meant that he always kept the door locked and the key on him. Someone had clearly got inside the room, though, so her father must have forgotten to lock the door.
She softly turned the handle and pushed the door open with her foot, holding the baseball bat in both hands, ready to take a swing if someone rushed out at her. She checked the lock. Someone unlocked the door from the inside.
The place was a complete mess. Books, broken ornaments, and important documents were strewn across the floor, and they had moved the bookcases, exposing the safe that behind them. Destiny didn’t know what her father kept inside the safe, or the code to open it, however upon closer inspection, someone had activated the safe’s lockdown system.
Seeing no sign of the intruder, Destiny stepped into the room. As soon as she crossed the threshold, something seemed off. It felt as though someone was watching her, observing her. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and an unforgiving tension rise in the pit of her stomach. But she was alone, and the room was empty. Destiny crept over to her father’s desk. All the drawers had been opened. She reached into the middle one and removed the false bottom, taking out the leather-bound journal that contained her father’s life’s work. She opened the journal and scanned the yellowed pages. It looked as though everything was still there. Hearing footsteps in the hall, Destiny held her breath, listening intently, before hiding under her father’s desk just as a shadow fell across the room.
! Fuck. This is not good,
As a child, she snooped around her father’s drawers. She discovered one with a false bottom. When she was five. But never understood why her father did not lock the journal inside the safe.
The figure began searching the room again. Shadows rose, spreading like vines and blocking Destiny’s escape route. The shadows extended outwards, some appearing out of the walls, snatching at the air with shadowy hands.
Holy fuck! Who are they?′ Destiny’s mind gripped her with fear, and she clutched the journal tightly. Calming her nerves as much as she could, she took a quick peek out from under the desk, trying to sneak a glimpse of the person she was dealing with.
The figure was not much taller than her, maybe about five foot six. He dressed in black, perfect for blending in with the darkness, but his movements were hurried and clumsy. His frustration seemed to grow with every movement;
“Where is it?” He muttered to himself; his voice laid with a faint Irish accent. “It must be here.”
He turned his attention to the desk, his gaze scanning the messy surface. In three quick strides, he had crossed the room and began searching through the open drawers. Destiny crouched in the tiny gap under the desk. The intruder’s foot connected with the bat, and Destiny mentally cursed as the figure bent down to pick it up. Her heart pounded loudly against her chest, but with their attention focused on the search, the figure somehow did not see her squashed into her hiding place. Instead, he straightened up and placed the bat on top of the desk before resuming the search.
Destiny gripped the journal tighter. She knew instinctively this was what the shadowy figure searched for. It contained detailed records of cases of paranormal activity, along with her father’s theories about a connection to another world. She considered all of this to be a load of bullshit, but even if it were all true, the journal was useless unless they could read her dad’s terrible handwriting.
Her left leg was cramping. That was not good. She knew that if her muscles got too tight, they would spasm, making her kick the desk. If that happened, she would give herself away. And squashed under the desk like this, there would be nothing she could do. She had no choice. She was going to have to make a run for it. The figure stepped away from the desk, inspecting the bookcase, the figure’s back facing away from her. As quietly as possible, she eased herself out from under the desk, before impulsively rushing towards the door. Before she could make it, though, the solid shadows blocked her path and tried to ensnare her body. As they grabbed for her, she tripped. One of the few times she was grateful for her clumsiness, but now she had an additional problem. The intruder knew she was there.
Destiny lay helplessly on the carpet as the figure stood over her. They locked eyes briefly before the figure flicked to the journal lying on the floor. Destiny followed. The journal sat beyond her reach. The intruder walked over and picked it up, inspecting it, before locking his aqua eyes with Destiny’s evergreen ones. His eyes shone through the darkness, a strange hunger burning within them.
He walked back to Destiny and crouched in front of her. Her body shook in response as the shadowy figure’s chilling breath tickled her ear.
“Thanks for the help, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle and strangely hypnotic. Destiny glared at him, an uncontrollable rage building, but the intruder simply turned his back on her and walked towards the window.
She sprang into action, jumping up and grabbing the baseball bat from the desk. She rushed towards the intruder, swinging the bat with her full strength, connecting with his back and throwing him off balance. The figure grunted, lost his footing, and smashed through the window. As he fell, he twisted in the air and landed gracefully, leaving nothing but a small piece of cloth on a glass shard of the broken window. His face was a mix of surprise and fury. He placed weight on his bleeding leg, hissing in pain, before hurrying off into the tree line carrying her dad’s precious journal.
Destiny dropped the baseball bat. Adrenaline coursed through her body as she leant out of the broken window, scanning the darkness for any sign of the intruder, ignoring the rain-soaked winds that blew her ice-blonde hair everywhere.
The intruder limped away into the forest. She thought about trying to chase him, but the faint buzz of sirens coming down the road told her she would have more important matters to attend to. Too bad the police had not been more prompt. Destiny sighed and trudged down the stairs, knowing there would be hell to pay now and a lot of explaining she was not prepared to do.
