Age 13 - Throwback Thursday Writing

This little story made  me laugh reading it again. It was originally "published" in the Stephen R. Fitz Intermediate 93-94 Anthology (very impressive I know). I still love adjectives, and tend toward the dramatic, but luckily I've toned it down since 8th grade. For your reading pleasure...

1994 Age 13

 

A Stranger at the Door

            It was dark outside, pitch black, when I walked into the dimmed family room of my small, three bedroom, middle-class home. I sat my eleven-year=old body on my father’s black leather recliner and hit the play button on the remoter control projecting Look Who’s Talking on the average sized T.V. As I sat there in splendor watching my favorite motion picture, I had no idea of the terrible fear that would soon be filling my female body.

            Just as Mikey was being born into the world, or shall I say movie world, I heard a light scratching sound coming from the key hole of my large, ebony, front door. I shot a glance toward the door. The scratching stopped. I jumped out of the recliner onto the gray carpet, tip toed over to the door, and stared through one of the glass panes of the window that was set next to the door. All I could see was the thick blackness of the night. I blew a puff of air out relieving my fear in the process. I sat back down and resumed watching the movie.

            Then I heard the scratching sound again, except it was slower and more distinct now. I slowly turned my head settling my eyes on the window. I saw a shadowy figure through the window next to the door and it was definitely a person! For a few seconds I was frozen by the fear that was rushing through my body. I looked toward my eldest sister, Mimi, who had been in a deep slumber on the black leather love seat located by the door.

            I jumped out of the recliner again, but this time I ran over to the love seat where Mimi was sleeping. I gazed at the door again where the lock had begun to turn.

            What am I going to do? I thought to myself in terror.

            “Mimi,” I exclaimed in a whisper. She didn’t respond. So I shook her twice as tears started streaming down my face. I looked at the door again. It was completely unlocked.

            “Mimi,” I cried again, my cheeks now drenched with tears.

            Her eyes popped open, a horrified look was on them from the shock of suddenly being awakened by a frantic child. I shot a daggering finger toward the door where the knob was halfway turned. She was still confused and unaware of what was going on. Then a head popped through the large door!

            "Jeff," I cried out in relief to find that it was my brother-in-law. "You scared me half to death!"

            "Sorry. I didn't want to wake anybody up," he said in a nonchalant voice, like it was no big deal.

            Mimi's head dropped back against her pillow resuming her slumber that had only been halfway broken in the first place. Still trembling from shock, I decided to turn in for the night, thinking that the fear would be forever gone.

            When the same fear shot through my body the next time I heard a door being unlocked, I knew the memory would be attached to me for the rest of my life. So far it has been. I always wonder if I had gone to check the window again and had seen that it was only Jeff, would I still remember that night today. But, I guess since nobody has invented a way to rewind time, I'll never know.

JYM