Stef's alarm clock was flashing 3 AM when she came to in her dark bedroom. Streaks of light from the lightening outside danced across her walls like a perverse marionette show. Cold, frightened and slightly damp from her open window, Stef hesitated.
Another spray of droplets came through the window, carried by the wind, before she threw off her soggy covers. The wood-framed window took some effort to close in the elements, but Stef managed and then locked the latch with a click. A few steps later she was in the hallway linen closet gathering up towels and a fresh blanket. She would change her sheets in the morning.
Throwing them down on the bed and kicking her damp covers aside, Stef crawled back in under a too-warm duvet and on top of a bed of towels. Within a few minutes she'd warmed back up and she was starting to drift off to sleep before she heard a loud thump coming from her attic. Stef shot up in bed and quickly flicked on her bedside lamp.
"Hello?" she called out into the fading darkness of her room. Nobody answered. "Is someone there? I'm calling the police" she continued to shout, grabbing her cell phone. Again, no answer. Cautiously, Stef stepped out of bed and out into her hallway, flicking on every light in her cabin as she passed. Grabbing a baseball bat from her hallway closet she began checking every dark nook and corner throughout her cottage.
Nothing in the closets, the laundry area, the bathroom, under her bed, behind her couch, in her pantry — nothing anywhere she could see. Stef began to exhale, the only place left was the attic and that must be another racoon. No point in corning a probably feral animal in the dark, she would contact animal control in the morning.
The string to pull down the ladder to the attic was attached to a latch that could be secured with a lock. Stef didn't have one so she grabbed the knife sharpener from her butchers block in her kitchen, and pulled up a chair. Even with the added height under her feet Stef had to stretch to slip the sharpener in the lock. Standing on her tippy toes made her unsteady. So unsteady that after slipping the sharpener into the lock Stef lost her balance and lurched forward, landing on her wood floor with a loud thud.
With nothing bleeding or broken more than her own ego she pulled herself up, pushed the chair back into place and started flicking off lights in her cabin. Moments later she was tucked back in bed.
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The next time Stef woke her alarm flashed an angry red 4 AM on her nightstand. The rain continued to rage outside and a loud bang had drawn her from her sleep. Stef sprang up in bed, grabbing the baseball bat between her night table and her bed on her way out of her room and into her hallway.
"Hello? Who's there? I have a weapon, you better leave now!" She screamed, inching forward in the darkness straining her eyes for the source of the sound. Stef's front door flapped back and forth in the wind. With each gust, the wooden door lurched and made a loud thunk. Had she not locked it? Shaking, Stef flicked her lights back on. But again, nobody answered her. Nobody was lurking in the dark corners of her cabin and nothing seemed to be missing.
Still shaking, Stef pulled her front door shut. The loud, old thing wasn't easy to close and the lock stuck like it always did when she bolted it. Still holding her batt she went into her kitchen, propped it down against her fridge and picked up her kettle. Tea would help settle her nerves, nerves that were shot at this point. The tea was already sitting out on the counter.
Her house was silent like death except for the pitter-patter of the rain against her windows and the odd echoes of thunder. She nearly jumped from her skin when the kettle began to hiss, letting her know her water was properly boiled. With one unsteady hand she turned to the stove, flicked it off and picked up the solid metal kettle. It was heavy in her hand, and the handle was pleasantly hot against her fingers.