A Twist in the Night (Short Story)

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writing as R. P. Kane "It's here," she whispered. "It's in the house. It was all I got before the phone went silent. A haunting whisper at the other end of the line. It's here. I rushed home as quick as I could, a driving fall rain pelting my windshield unrelentingly, making it difficult to navigate the tree lined road though the darkness. Twice I nearly ran myself off the road, swerving to avoid fallen branches, my tires struggling to maintain whatever grip they had. It's in the house. That was the thing that struck me the most. It. It seemed like such an odd choice of word. What could she have meant by it? I finally made my way up the drive. The house was awash in complete darkness. Had the power gone out? The front door was wide open. I rushed out of the car and up the porch steps and stood there for a moment. "Marcy?" I called out. Only the sound of the howling wind and the rain against the roof came back. "Marcy. Are you in there?" I called out again. Still nothing. My heart had already been pounding, but now it felt as though it might leap out of my chest at any moment. That was when I saw it. A wetness inside the doorway. Like a trail. I could see it just barely glistening in a tiny swath of moonlight. Not the rain, I thought. For a split second I thought, maybe I should just call the police. But Marcy. Those words. It's here. How long would it take for the police to get there? I slowly made my way into the doorway, being careful to avoid whatever that wetness was on the floor and began to follow it. "Marcy," I called out again. It led me through the living room and into the hallway. What was that smell? It was almost like a wet, dirty animal. Something wild and untamed. But yet different. Something else was conjoined with it. Death. It smelled like death. Not of rot, but of something on the verge. I kept my ears keen. Listening for breathing, a sound of movement, the sound of Marcy's voice breaking through the wind and rain. But there was nothing. I made my way down the hall, still following the trail of wetness, and could just barely make it out. The closed bathroom door—and then, a large gaping hole through it. "Marcy. Marcy! Are you in there?" I shouted. But there was no response. I examined the hole as closely as I could without light, the smell stronger here than anywhere before in the house. Like it had spent time here. The hole had not been made. Not as though someone or something kicked their way through. It was chewed, and clawed. And as I stood there looking at it... A hole big enough for a body to fit through. A hole big enough for Marcy. I reached my hand through the hole and felt for the doorknob, turned the lock and opened it. I could barely see it but the wetness inside the bathroom was more profound and the smell the worst of all. She was gone. Marcy was nowhere to be seen. I belted from the bathroom, back through the hall, through the living room, tears welling up in my eyes and my heart threatening to stop. That word still clinging to my senses. It. For a moment I thought, what if it's still here? Whatever took Marcy. What's if it's still in the house waiting? I stepped onto the front porch to try to get my composure. Trying to consider my next move. I placed my hand on the stone pillar before the handrail down the porch and in a sudden strike of lightning my heart did momentarily stop. That's when I saw it. "The Gargoyle," I whispered. "Where's the Gargoyle?" There were two on either side of the porch. Now there was only one. I turned to look at the one left on the other side, and its head slowly turned toward me, and through a row of sharp teeth that now glistened ivory in the moonlight, it smiled at me. ***Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction by Jim Bauer writing as R. P. Kane. Although fiction is not something we do often here on myLot, considering Halloween is right around the corner, I thought I would share a fun little haunt with you. Condensed down from a longer piece. I hope you enjoyed it.***