I Was Stabbed by an English Fop, WHAT? (Working Title)

Hey, I was suddenly inspired and wrote this down, but I have no idea if it's any good.  If you like it and think I should continue, let me know:)  And if you have any comments to help me out, I really appreciate those, too:)  THANKS FOR READING! :)

            She threw her keys on the counter, calling out, “I’m home,” even though she knew no one was there to answer her.  Taking off her jacket, she hung it on the back of a chair and walked down the dark hallway, not bothering to turn on any lights.  The streetlamp outside offered enough light for her to make it to the bathroom without bumping into anything.

            It was when she was washing her hands that she heard it.  It sounded like footsteps.  They were quiet, but in the silence of midnight, there was no mistaking their presence.  They were coming down her hallway, or she thought they were coming this way.  Her heart thumping, she dried her hands and reached for the knob.  Pulling her hand back, she grabbed her blow dryer, ready to use it as a weapon, just in case.  Unlocking and easing the door open, she poked her head out and glanced down the hallway, left and right, and saw nothing.  She held her breath, listening for the footsteps she’d identified earlier but heard only silence. 

            Shaking her head at her silliness, she put her blow dryer away and opened the door all the way. 

            “Sorry ‘bout this, love.”  The voice was followed by a stabbing pain in her chest that hit her too fast to even scream.  She stood in shock staring at both the knife sticking out of her chest and the upside-down face of a smiling man in a dark green suit and hat.  She wondered briefly how the hat stayed on his head even while he hung upside down before she began falling, backward toward the floor.  But even though she knew she would hit it, she didn’t feel anything.  She just kept falling backward, over and over, head over heel, as if she’d stumbled into a zero gravity chamber.  Everything was dark around her; in fact, it seemed as though the dark was swallowing her.  It felt like what she imagined being swallowed by a whale was like.

            She spun around and around forever when suddenly, she started falling.  She slammed into the ground and gasped, opening her eyes to stare into green eyes and a pearly, somewhat pained, smile. 

            “Feeling better, now, are we?”  An English accent.  How quaint. 

            Her head felt fuzzy.  Why was she lying on the bathroom floor?  How did she get there?  Who was this man dressed like an eighteenth century fop?

            Then she saw it.  The knife still stuck out of her chest like some grotesque movie prop, but she knew it was real because she could actually feel it.  The blade felt uncomfortable but pained her little, like an irritating splinter might.  It stuck straight into her chest, but her heart continued to beat around it as if it didn’t care that a KNIFE had buried itself right through it.  The man sat cross legged at her head, staring down at her, his hands fidgeting with the chain of a pocket watch. 

            The weirdness of the situation overwhelmed her and she screamed.  She sat up and waved her hands frantically in front of the knife, not knowing if she should pull it out or keep it in.  She let out another short scream, then a third.

            Suddenly the man behind her screamed, too, and she turned toward him and screamed again as the realization that this was the man who stabbed her entered her mind.  They exchanged screams for a few seconds before he suddenly burst into laughter.

            Stunned at his reaction, she stopped screaming and could only stare at him.  He continued laughing until he cried.  Pulling out a handkerchief, he wiped his eyes and shook his head.  “Sorry ‘bout that, lovey, but every time I do this, they scream, so this time, I decided to scream too, just to see what all the fuss was about, then you screamed with me.  Make quite the chorus line, don’t we?” He chuckled and offered her his handkerchief.