A Frightful Horror Tale Written Whilst On Vacation In Majorca
I had only received the keys to the property 2 days ago, and also after generating rash agreements with a nearby removals organization, I had moved into my brand new house close to other Majorca villas within forty-eight hours. The other day had been mayhem, with me directing the position of my few furniture pieces to their numerous new locations, and finally my bedroom being left with selection of containers still to be unpacked.
Sleeping in an unusual home is usually a challenging task with regard to most people, however in some way I had been successful in falling into a slight slumber. The noise which in fact had awakened me from my light snooze was unsettling to put it mildly. I dismissed the concept that it had been caused by some small containers falling over due to some unbalancing, for the noise was that of a heavy furniture piece being pushed along the floor, and then of cabinet doors being flung open in the kitchen space.
My first thoughts were to telephone law enforcement immediately, but then I recalled that I had left my cell phone in the car, which was now securely located in the car port below. You usually laugh when you see these things happening on movies how could they forget the mobile phone. But this was the real world, and it was happening to me.
I silently opened up the bedroom window and looked down on a abandoned avenue. Exactly what else had I wished to see at 4 o-clock in the morning, an avenue thronged with individuals. I tinkered with the idea of creeping downstairs and dealing with the burglar, but I am a bit of a coward, so I concluded on securely locking the bedroom door and placing a stout chair under the handle.
There currently, I had only to wait for daylight, or at least the appearance of someone in the road beneath whom I could truthfully enlist in calling law enforcement. As things turned out I had no time to hold back for help, the doorway to my bedroom was being intentionally pushed. Something on the opposite side was grunting with the effort of trying to move the stout chair which was the only thing between myself and whatever it was on the other side. The truth is that, I was filled up with dread and terrified witless at the thought of what might be there on my master bedroom landing. I was unsure as to whether to remain silent, or to scream my head off in the hope of waking others in the avenue. Certainly somebody would take note of my cries.
My throat was dried up and I realized that I had not inhaled for a long time. My heart was beating like a drum within my chest. Please someone, please make it disappear completely. My vibrant imagination was conjuring various images for what was frantically trying to get into my master bedroom. I felt faint and helpless rather like a small kid when confronted by a large ferocious canine. What could I do. What could I use to fight such an testing opponent. Everything in the bedroom was useless as a means of defence, and I could not imagine a cushion being considered as a high risk weapon.
A sudden loud bang on the entry way brought me suddenly to reality. I opened my eyes to find it was broad daylight. I looked at the bedroom door the chair was still there serving as a defence against the nameless fear of earlier. Again came the banging at the front entrance, so I quickly donned my dressing gown and stumbled down the stairs. I was surprised to find two police officers standing there. They were making inquiries about a prisoner who was at large after getting out from a local psychological establishment. Had I heard any disorder during the night. Should I relate my night of terror directly to them, or merely forget it. I decided to do just that. I made a cup of steaming fresh espresso and ambled into the garage to retrieve my cell phone from the front seat of my car. As I did so I became aware of an unexpected movement behind me, and a huge pair of flea-bitten hands closed firmly around my throat.
If only I had not left my cellular phone in the car.