The Scratching

A short story about a girl paralyzed by the sound of scratching.

A cold Halloween wind howled through the trees outside. Shivering in my wet costume, I dumped my candy onto the bed and started sorting.

Twelve chocolate bars, one popcorn ball, a handful of peanut butter kisses, a bag

of chips,...

The sound of scratching tore me from my sorting. An eerie feeling came over me. Goosebumps rose on my arms. Rising, I made my way to the window. I pulled back the curtain, peering out into the darkness. The rain had speckled the glass. The limbs of the skeletal trees waved as if threatening me.

Silly it's just a tree branch scratching against the bedroom window.

The bumps started retreating, only to quickly return when the scratching sound moved to the walls. Something was moving around in there!

My eyes darted to the spot in the wall where the plaster of the 150-year-old house had fallen away. I expected something hideous emerge at any second. As if a statue in a museum, I was unable to move. Sweat beads formed on my forehead sliding down into my eyes like a miniature waterfall.

The ticking of the clock, or is that my heart, kept count as the minutes crawled by.

A chattering sound was now emanating from the direction of the hole! Adrenalin coursed through my body preparing me for what was about to happen. A tuft of chestnut fur suddenly appeared and out jumped...

A squirrel? Like a circus acrobat, he raced around the room, his fluffy tail billowing out behind him.

You really psyched yourself out this time, he is more afraid than you were.

Backing towards the door, I jerked it open. I took the stairs two at a time, the squirrel following close behind me like a maniac with one intent. Rushing to the back door I managed to pry it open just in time for the frenzied squirrel to make a getaway.

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