The storm that raged that night didn’t help his state of mind.
He had felt the feeling that something wasn’t right for several days. It had been building in intensity. Now, soaking wet, with an umbrella that had been ripped apart by the howling wind, and chilled to the bone, it was an unbearable feeling of foreboding that he couldn’t shake off. As he left the bus and began walking the two blocks to the house his awareness of an evil presence grew even stronger. Although yearning for the safety and comfort of his home, he found himself wishing for the first time that he didn’t live alone. Turning into his street he saw that the street lights were out. At his front door he fumbled with his keys in the dark.
Finally inside, he fell back against the door. He flipped the light switch, but no light came on. The storm must have taken that out too, he thought. He knew where the torch and candles were kept in a cupboard in the back room. He made his way through the house in almost total darkness. He finally located the door by feel. With his hand on the doorknob he hesitated, overcome by the same feeling of malevolence. He entered the room slowly and made his way in the direction of the cupboard.
In the shadows, something was silently crouching.
It was grinning.