Sinister Tales

Paranoia

Paranoia

2014 © All Rights Reserved

A dream is just a dream, right?

A storm whirled on outside, winds whistling through trees that scraped against the house like nails on a chalkboard. Rain hit the top of the house sounding as if a bunch of small children kept stomping on their roof. Streams of rain droplets slid down the windows making it hard to see outside into their dark neighborhood. No one's house lights were on. Kenna looked at the clock on her nightstand. It read 2:28am.

Her dry throat screamed for rehydration so she made her way out of her room. She took notice of how dark the house was. If it weren't for the moon shining through the window at the end of the hall, she was sure she'd be in complete darkness.

Kenna walked down the carpeted hallway until she reached the edge of the stairs. Her fingers trailed against the wooded railing of the staircase. Her feet stepped down carefully, somewhere in her mind she knew she didn't want to make too much noise. Her twin sister was a light sleeper and a bitch when she was woken up before the sun came out.

As her feet touched the cold mahogany floor she knew she was in the living room. She crossed through to get to the kitchen. When she arrived at her destination, Kenna opened the cabinet to get a glass of water. The crystal clear water from the faucet poured halfway into the cup until she turned the water off. Drinking the cool water, her parched throat felt refreshed. Kenna set down the glass in the sink and began to make her way out of the kitchen.

That was until she heard a noise. Kenna dropped down to the floor, listening closely to see if it was a trick of her half-sleepy mind. When another creak sounded from the staircase, she peered over the counter to get a look at the person walking down the stairs. Her heart stopped when she realized it was a person clothed in all black clothes and leather gloves. She dropped back down to the cold floor, feeling vulnerable.

Kenna had goosebumps covering her head to toe. Her breaths became irregular and panic rose through her body. It was either panic or vomit.

Instinctively, she scooted towards where they kept the silverware and utensils. With sweaty hands, she opened it slowly then reached in to grab the first knife she could find. When she closed it, another sound came from the living room.

This is real. She said to herself. Someone is in our house. So many times she had seen in movies or read it in books. Never did it scare or put in the fear in her like the fear she felt now. To actually experience it was a different thing. She felt a mix of dread and terror, a dangerous combo. Her heart felt as if it were trying to force it's way out of her body. With the passing seconds of uncertainty, the beat felt more forceful and time seemed to slow down.

Kenna crawled on her knees with the knife ready in her hand. She peaked into the living room to see no one. Quickly, she pressed her body against a kitchen cabinet. Am I going to die? She questioned herself, anticipating for the intruder to run into the kitchen at any moment and attack her.

Her eyes made their way to the house phone. In her mind she put out her choices: wait there to be attacked or make an attempt to call for help. With her hand still holding tightly on the handle of the knife, she ran straight for the house phone, grabbing it then running back to her safe spot. As she ran, she pressed buttons. Before her fingers could press the last number, a figure came up from behind her.

The person grabbed the shrieking Kenna. She stabbed the blade deep into the intruders leg, but the person still fought against her as if it didn't faze them. Kenna's head got slammed into the counter. Her head filled with a piercing ringing noise. She could feel the warm blood drip down her cold forehead.