As I ReadMelissa New
J. R. Wagner is a busy man.
He is particularly busy on this night. He turns page after page searching for the best entry while the fire glows yet, for some reason, is unable to keep the cold at bay.
Something doesn't feel right, he thinks. There is a tension -almost palpable- in the air. The house is quiet except for the knowing anxiousness of his dog, Max.
The motion sensing lights click on illuminating the woods behind his house. Probably just a deer, he thinks and continues reading.How could anyone know I live near the woods? I must have mentioned it in an interview or something, I think.
He's no longer comfortable in his chair, with his back to the window -exposed to whatever waits in the dark beyond the range of the lights. He turns and looks out into the darkness. He looks with his eyes but he does not see.
Sorin begins to growl and moves toward the front door. He crouches there, growling as if the door were alive. The author stands, no longer able to discount the fear.At this point, I was legitimately panicking because my dog is named Sorin and he is growling at the door. I stood, happy to leave the darkened forest beyond the window and stood beside my dog. Truth be told there was something comforting about standing beside a large German Shepherd when a possible stalker was outside my door.
The dog suddenly goes silent. The author realizes his protector has released its bladder on the floor as it moves behind him, cowering. He steps forward, checks the bolt on the door and moves toward the coat closet to retrieve his weapon of choice -a hatchet. As he steps, he slips in the puddle of dog urine and strikes his head on the baseboard. He curses and slowly stands ignoring the indentation in the drywall above the baseboard as well as the puddle of blood on the floor below.
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| Image credit: The Washington Post |
