by Bob'n Around
Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
|Daily and weekly SCREAMS!!! win
“Turn the TV down.” Tom Davis grabbed the remote and switched the surround sound off. “I heard a siren's call.”
The large screen continued its third rate horror show hour with death on the prowl. “You are always getting spooked, Tom. Give me that.” Alice liked getting safely scared. Her husband got nightmares watching them. She reached for the tantalizing object in her husband’s hand.
“Quiet. Didn't you hear that?” Tom moved further out of reach, head tilted, eyes nearly closed in concentration.
“What? Graffiti artists, again?” Fences, sidewalks and walls had been decorated more lately. Alice was used to Tom’s ever present awareness and wariness of his surroundings. It had only gotten worse since he’d taken charge of the neighborhood watch program after unknowns torched the Winslow car. It had been left overnight on the street.
Tom made shushing motions, picked up his newly bought .32 colt revolver, spun the cylinders and whispered, “Stay here.”
“Take the dog,” Alice implored. Having their German Shepherd along might prevent a shooting. Was that a police siren out on the road? She couldn't get it out of her head.
“I’m coming with you,” but Tom was already out the front door. the sound came closer.
“You’re a lot of help,” Alice wavered, gawking at the thumping tail of Katie dog where the rest of her body hid behind the sofa. “Some guard dog.”
The little sized baseball bat kind of club Tom had given her for home invasion protection came easily to hand. It gave her needed assurance to get her feet moving towards the back door. Tom could check out the front. “O.K. Google, turn the surveillance camera on.” She reminded herself.
Maybe it was nothing. Probably was. The last time anything had happened, a couple of teens had climbed over the irrigation fence while she’d been sunbathing last summer. Scared them almost as bad as it had her, when she’d sic’d ninety pound Katie on them. Never seen any human move so fast. Tom had added barbed wire. Only caught the unwary bird since.
Out front, nothing was happening. “Maybe a patrol car,” Tom surmised. His hands were clammy and sweaty. He caught a curtain closing from the Winslow’s and knew the police would soon arrive. “Time to pack it in. Best not greet them with a loaded gun.”
The seductive sound of the siren's call moving around back caught him by surprise. He raced that way. Everything happened at once. The Winslow black cat flashed into view, leaping up on a garbage can at the end of the driveway. Tom’s peripheral vision caught the motion of a shadow to his left.
Alice’s club connected with his skull. “Oh, no. You startled me,” she gasped as Tom’s trigger finger twitched. The last sound either one of them heard was that of the black hooded shadowy figured Grim Reaper's siren song fading from view and Katie’s mournful accompanying howl.