The Creature by Kyle J. Owens

Midnight crawled closer. Distant thunderclaps punctuated the steady rush of pouring rain. The house was quiet. Erratic lightning flashes illuminated its darkened rooms and halls. Only in the downstairs living room came the pale glow of a single lamp. 

Lucy looked up with a start. She put down her tawdry Gothic romance paperback and sat up on the sofa. She heard it again, clearly this time. It was coming from the kitchen. She concentrated on what sounded like sort-of a scratching at the back door, but she couldn’t be for certain. Her first idea was that, once again the neighbor’s dog had wiggled his way into the backyard. Then she thought that no sane dog would be out in this storm. Tentatively, she got up and started making her way down the gloomy hall into the spacious kitchen. 

Lucy flicked on the light. Everything seemed normal so she stepped forward. It was in front of the locked back door she felt the first hint of alarm. She froze. Something was on the other side of the door. It was lurking in the darkness of the backyard. Waiting. 

Despite herself, a chill went up her spine. Her breath caught in her throat. Again came the faint scratching. Lucy suddenly realized what made it so unnerving. Unlike a dog scratching this was so much more even and deliberate. There was a slow rhythm to each scrape on wood. It knew she was listening. 

With effort she slowly backed out of the kitchen. She hurried up the stairs to her bedroom where she locked the door and pushed the heavy leather-backed office chair against it. She went to the window that looked out over the backyard. In the darkness lit only by sporadic lightning flashes she saw that the yard was empty. Lucy turned around, her heartbeat growing steady and her breath slowing. 

There was only silence in the house until from downstairs there came a great crashing and rending noise. A single panicked thought rushed through Lucy’s head; it’s in the house. Again, she froze up, standing facing her bedroom door. An agonizing silence followed in which Lucy listened with strained nerves for the faintest of sounds from the intruder. 

Then it came quicker and more terrible than she imagined. A deep, bestial growl emanated from behind the locked door. How had it gotten upstairs so fast? She hadn’t heard a sound. Then the door shook with a sudden violent force. Lucy yelped, sinking to the floor. Again and again whatever it was thudded against the door. The bashing continued, rocking the door with each impact. The chair, a feeble means of blockage, she knew, was flung into a corner.

Then the wild thrashing stopped. The rain and thunder continued outside. 

After a moment Lucy stood, still rigid against the window. In her panicked state her senses were in overdrive. She concentrated on the door on the other side of the room. Yet she heard nothing, felt no presence beyond the battered door. She turned to look out the window. Inches from her face two large, yellow-glowing eyes stared back at her. 

She screamed.

Kyle J. Owens graduated from Emporia State University with a BA in English, minoring in Creative Writing. He has one short-story titled ‘Grave Dancers’ published in the Fall 2015 issue of Quivira, the student literary journal at ESU.