“Did you lock the back door?” Sophia’s voice cut through the kitchen’s hum of the refrigerator.
“I thought you did,” Leo called from the living room, his eyes still glued to the TV.
Sophia sighed, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “I didn’t. And we’ve had two break-ins on this street in the last week.”
Leo muttered something under his breath but got up anyway, dragging his feet as he headed for the door. “Fine, fine. I’ll check.”
The house was too quiet, even for a Friday night: it felt like the silence had its own weight, pressing down on them. Sophia stood by the sink, listening to Leo shuffle through the hall. The sound of the back door creaked while he tested the lock. It was a small thing, the door—barely more than wood and bolts. But lately, Sophia felt as if no number of locks would keep them safe.
Leo reappeared, wiping his hands on his jeans. “It’s locked. Happy?”
“Thrilled,” Sophia said dryly, though her heart still beat a little too fast. She turned to the window, peering into the darkness beyond the kitchen. “We should’ve gotten a dog,” she spoke to herself.
Leo snorted. “A dog wouldn’t stop what happened to the Carsons.”
That name hung between them, the Carsons; they lived just two houses down and had been home the night someone broke in. But no one ever saw what happened: one moment, they were watching TV, and the next, both were gone; no trace; no struggle; just… gone. The police found their door wide open, their lights still on, but not a single sign of foul play – only the family’s cat circling the living room, mewing at the empty air.
Sophia stared out the window, frowning. “You don’t think it’s weird, though? I mean, how do two people just disappear like that? No evidence, nothing?”
Leo shrugged. “It’s probably some crazy guy messing with people. But don’t you worry, we’re fine. There’s no way someone gets in here without me hearing it,” Leo sounded confident.
“Maybe…” Sophia let her voice trail off as she squinted into the blackness outside. There, just past the garden hedge, something moved. It was subtle, just a shift in the shadows, but enough to make her stiffen.
“Leo,” she whispered.
He looked up from the TV. “What?”
“I think someone’s out there.”
Leo rolled his eyes, a bit bothered now by his wife’s constant delusions. “It’s probably a raccoon.”
“No. It’s not—” Her words caught in her throat as the figure became clearer. Someone—something—was standing at the edge of the garden, just past the faint glow of their porch light. She couldn’t make out details, only the silhouette: tall and still, very, very still.
Leo joined her at the window, squinting. “Where?”
“There.” She pointed, her hand trembling slightly.
Leo sighed, rubbing his forehead. “There’s nothing there, Sophia!”
But she didn’t respond. She couldn’t take her eyes off the figure, and the longer she stared, the more she realized it was looking back: not moving, not even shifting its weight, just standing, watching.
She took a step back. “Leo, lock the front door.”
He turned to her, frowning. “What?”
“Lock it. Now!” she was half screaming.
Leo scoffed. “You’re just being paranoid now.”
“Do it!” she snapped, her voice trembling and maybe even crying.
His face darkened, but he walked to the front of the house and twisted the deadbolt. Sophia kept her eyes on the window, but the figure hadn’t moved. She swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing.
The phone rang, the sudden sound piercing through the tense quiet. Sophia jumped. Leo cursed under his breath and grabbed the cordless from the table.
“Hello?” he said, clearly annoyed.
He listened for a moment, his face going blank.
“What? Who is this?” His voice rose, confusion turning to irritation. “Who’s calling?”
Sophia’s stomach dropped as she watched him listen, his face growing paler by the second. Then, slowly, his eyes lifted to meet hers.
“Sophia,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, “it’s… it’s you.”
“What?” Her voice cracked.
He lowered the phone, his hand shaking, and held it out toward her. She could see her name on the screen, the number—their number—displayed clearly.
The call was coming from inside the house.
Sophia’s legs felt weak as she snatched the phone from his hand, bringing it to her ear.
“Hello?” she breathed, her voice barely audible.
There was a pause and then her own voice. There could be no mistake; it was, actually, clearly her voice that spoke back.
“Sophia… turn around.”
Her blood ran cold. She dropped the phone, and it clattered onto the kitchen floor. Her eyes darted to Leo, who was frozen, mouth slightly open as if trying to form words but finding none.
Slowly, the two of them turned toward the hall.
The back door was wide open.
And there, in the doorway, was the figure, standing in the shadows, silent and waiting.
Everything in the house seemed to freeze—the clock on the wall, the air itself—until the figure stepped forward.
“Run,” Sophia whispered, barely able to breathe.
But before she could move, the lights flickered, and the house was plunged into darkness.
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