Do I Feel Lucky?

Gun, with Occasional Music

A trickle of cold sweat runs from my armpit down the side of my body. My back is now ramrod straight. The phone is ringing incessantly. Downstairs, someone or some thing is banging on the door. I look and see that it is shaking with each blow. Whatever is on the other side means business. Do I answer the phone or the door? I can hear the dainty sounds of a music box; surreal and terrifying somewhere in the background. The maddening ringing never ceases. I pick it up. Calmly, I say to no one in particular that they are not to call here- that I am calling the police as soon as I hang up. As I press the first 1 in 911, the knocking stops. Phone in hand, I step closer to the now silent door. In the time that it takes to turn my head, I am no longer alone in my apartment. Inches from my eyes- a hand comes into focus. There is no face attached to this hand. The hand that is tautly gripping the largest, gunmetal gray firearm I have ever seen in my life. This is not a robbery. This is just pure evil- exacting revenge for my being aloof and not acknowledging its presence. I hear the chamber click loudly between my ears. My eyes pop open. Awake at last.

Note to self: No more Caramel Cheesecake right before bed.