The Unwelcome Ones

House and Home

In a matter of seconds, there were four hands once again slamming on the table. Devon sat in the recliner, brutish legs dangling over the armrest.

"You're the biggest friggin' cheater I know! This is blastinee!" Johnathan screamed, trying to keep his slight smiled down-turned to a scowl.

The only response Ryland gave was a scolding remark of, "Blastinee? That's not the word you're looking for. Actually, that's not even a word. Blasphemy, maybe?"

Johnathan put his cards down on the table with the precision of a coroner setting his scalpel on a tray.

"I'm getting some apple juice, asshat," he sighed, "and I hope you're a better person when I get back." Getting up, he hesitated, turning back solemnly, "...and a better player."

Chuckling, he ran into the kitchen while Ryland tried to flick playing cards at his back.

A glance over to the table told Devon that the only unfairness going on there was the fact that Ryland didn't know the rules for any of the card games he volunteered to play.

Devon's seat was uncomfortable and familiar, looking directly into the open kitchen, with the starlight and rain drops to soothe his peripheral vision. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he saw an odd shape in the treeline--swaying gently under the caress of the wind and rainfall. It didn't appear to be a sapling he was familiar with. And he knew all of them. All 27 that hugged the fence line separating the back yard from the acres and acres of trees. It also didn't look like any downed tree branch he'd ever seen.

Looks like someone that doesn't want to be seen.

That internal voice's input made the hair on his neck stand on end all in a split second.

"Guys...window!" he blurted.

Knowing that Devon was the most sensible and dry of the three of them, the other two knew to come running. When they reached the window, lightning cracked down into the field behind his house, striking the thick grass with a surreal ferocity.

"That's crazy!" Johnathan ooed.

"Only you could know when lightning is gonna strike," Ryland laughed.

"No, that's not what I meant! In the treeline, Can't you see that...person?" he asked uncertainly.

He knew neither of them saw the figure. He knew because he couldn't see it. His eyes had been accustomed to the dark, rainy weather and even he had trouble seeing into the woods after the bright flash bolted to the ground. They waited silently until the trees were once again distinct, but there was only the heavy raindrops hopping down the highway of leaves and windblown limbs swaying under the duress of Mother Nature's exhale.

"I swear I think I seen—saw—someone out there. I'm almost positive," he spoke, correcting his grammar with a stammer in his voice.

"Well how tall were they?" Johnathan questioned. "Guy or girl?"

"I...don't know. They had to be tall. I think his head...or her...was just under the bottom branch of that tree," pointing to one of the taller of the dozen or so maples and oaks that gave way to the dense foliage of the woods. The other two knew the tree. They had spent their time exploring that line of trees for years, rarely bothering to go further into the thick wooded area that laid deeper still in the woodlands.

"There's no way. That's one of the ones we had to hammer pegs in to climb. The bottom branch is at least seven feet up," Ryland reminded.

"Look, I get it. It's probably nothing. But I'll be damned if I have some seven-foot serial killer walk into my house because of self-doubt. Let's just check the doors?" he inquired.