Intruder

He awoke to the sounds of creaking floorboards. “It sounds like someone walking around in the living room,” he thought. He remembered the aluminum bat he had under his bed. “Thank God,” he thought. He reached under his bed searching for the bat. It was a 30-inch aluminum little league bat he bought at a garage sale.

He grabbed hold of the top of the bat and slowly withdrew it. He rolled back over and clutched the handle with his right hand with all his strength. If he could see his knuckles around the bat, he’d notice how white they were.

He slowly rose from his bed and made his way to the entryway of the bedroom and froze. He brought the bat up from his side and held it with one hand next to his head, ready to take a swing. He stood, listening for any sign of movement coming down the hall. He glanced over at his sleeping wife, “thank God she’s still asleep,” he thought.

He turned the corner from his bedroom and slowly made his way down the hall toward the living room. He was in a batter's stance as he eased down the hallway, leading with his left shoulder, ready to take a swing as if he were in the batter’s box.

The stairs creaked. “He’s going downstairs,” he thought. He began to slowly move down the hallway again toward the living room, bat cocked in the ready position. Scanning the room, he noticed nothing had been moved. Everything, as far as he could tell, was in its place. The furniture hadn’t been moved. The lamps were all in place. Nothing was different. “The intruder must be downstairs” he reasoned. He moved out into the living room. He could hear feet shuffling on the floor downstairs.

He made his way over to one of the lamps in the living room, reached under the shade and turned the switch. The lamp clicked on. There was no response from downstairs. “Perhaps they hadn’t seen the light,” he thought. He went over the stairway light and flipped the switch, illuminating the stairway and part of the downstairs family room. Still nothing. Was he greatly mistaken? Were the events of the night all in his head? Was there an intruder in his home?

He slowly made his way down the stairs and flipped a switch, turning on the ceiling lamp. There was no one here. It was at the moment he let out a sigh of relief that he heard the sliding closet door in the spare bedroom close.

He took a moment to listen carefully for any movement from inside the closet, nothing. With a swoosh, he slid the door open. He opened it so hard that it made a loud bang against the opposing wall. There was nothing. He stared at the inside of an empty closet. “Wow, I really must be losing it,” he whispered to himself.

Just as he finished the thought and turned around, his eyes fell upon a figure, all in black from head to toe. A black ski mask covered the face. Shocked, he jumped back while at the same time taking a swing with his bat. The first swing missed the intruder, but the swing that followed found its mark, striking the intruder on the side of the head, stunning the figure, causing him to stumble.

He didn’t wait for the intruder to gain his composure, he swung a third time and a fourth. The sounds of an aluminum bat striking the skull echoed in the room. Again and again he swung, the bat finding its mark each time. But the intruder didn’t go down, instead, merely stumbling around the room. He paused for a moment, out of breath from the attack. “Oh my god, who is this guy?” The intruder was regaining his composure and coming at him, this time taking a knife from his pants pocket. Blood began soaking the intruder’s mask. The two eye holes and mouth openings revealed a blood-soaked face. One last swing sent the intruder crashing to the floor.

His next thought turned to his wife, surely all of the noise had awakened her. He turned and ran up the stairs. The intruder greeted him. “What the…,” he yelled! Just as the intruder took one step toward him, he swung his bat. Blood splattered from the openings of the mask, covering the room. He mustered up all the strength he had for one last swing. The bat found its mark on the side of the intruder’s head, “home run!” he yelled. With that swing, the intruder fell to the floor.

He ran into the bedroom to find, to his surprise, that his wife lay in the bed, sleeping. “How could she sleep through all of that?” he wondered. He called her name. She didn’t move. He went to her, still calling her name. She rolled over, revealing to his horror that she was wearing the blood soaked mask of the intruder!

The next thing he knew he was sitting up in his bed covered in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. “I had a nightmare, it was all a nightmare,” he said aloud. He turned on the light to reveal the horrifying truth. Between himself and his wife lay the aluminum bat. The bat was covered with blood. Startled, he jumped out of bed, calling for his wife, but she did not answer. He looked down to see his blood soaked chest and hands. His face felt wet. Touching his face and looking at his hands revealed that they were covered in blood too. The bed was covered in blood. The wall nearest his wife was splattered in blood. He ran over to her side of the bed and saw, staring at the wall, was his wife’s bludgeoned head.