I jumped when another egg exploded. The yolk flew farther and dotted the floor. My eyes widened and I stumbled backwards into the fridge as more of the eggs popped like fireworks. Their shells exploded and sent yolk flying in every direction. I turned tail and ran into the living room out of range of the demonic dead chickens.
I stopped in the middle of the room between the couch and the TV and turned towards the kitchen. The sliding glass door stood behind me with the TV on my right. All was silent in the kitchen, and all the eggs were exploded.
I let out a piercing shriek when the TV switched on to a classic movie channel. An old black-and-white horror movie played on the screen. It wouldn't have been so horrifying if I didn't know I didn't have cable, or any other working channels.
I stumbled backwards away from the TV until the back of my knees hit the front of the couch and I collapsed onto the cushions. The horror movie played to the part where a victim meets the hideous phantom monster. She held her hands in front of her face and screamed. The TV volume was cranked up to impossibly loud. I clapped my hands over my ears and shut my eyes.
This time the cool breeze sliced through me. It made me feel like I'd plunged into a deep, dark pool of chilling water. I opened my eyes and my mouth dropped to the floor.
On the wall opposite me stood a tall, dark shadow completely enveloped in a black cloak. The only clear features were its burning red eyes beneath the hood and its pale-as-death hands that stuck out from the billowing sleeves. The cold air was calm, but its cloak whipped to and fro as though it stood in a strong, swirling wind.
It floated towards me. Not even the coffee table slowed it down as it went through it. It reached out one of its pale hands. I screamed and dodged around the phantom to the sliding glass door on my right. My hands fumbled for the slick handle as the cool breeze struck my back. I glanced over my shoulder to see the cloaked figure turn and float towards me again. Both hands were stretched out.
I caught the handle and flung open the door. My body fell forward, and I stumbled into the yard and fell onto the yellow, dry grass. I rolled around to face the house and the phantom.
Nothing. There was no one there. The door was open, but the dark shadow had vanished.
I clutched my beating heart and sat there for a few minutes to try to catch my breath. Finally I struggled to my feet and shuffled forward until I reached the open door. The air from the house was as warm and dry as ever, and the TV was off. I leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the kitchen.
The eggs were still exploded.
I swallowed my fear and crept into the house. I eyed the staircase to the upstairs with suspicion. Nothing flew down the steps like I expected, and the TV remained off. I reached the shattered eggs. The entire carton of eighteen was broken and their guts strewn about the counter.
I screamed when a knock came from the front door.
"It's the police. Is everything all right in there?" a stern voice called out.
I rushed to the door and fumbled for the lock before I flung open the entrance. Two uniformed cops, one white and one black, stood on my small stoop and behind them was their patrol car.
"Good evening, miss," the white cop greeted me. "We were called about a disturbance and-" I rushed into the arms of the front one and clutched his uniform in my hands.
"T-there's something in my house!" I sobbed.
He wrapped his arms around me and patted me on the back. "It's going to be all right, miss. Now did you mean someone was in your house?" he corrected me.
I shut my eyes and nodded. "I-I think so. They were covered in a black cloak and tried to grab me."
He pulled us to the side and his partner entered with his gun in his hands. "You stay here," the first cop advised me as he followed his partner.
I watched the two men sweep my small home. One of them paused at the eggs and turned to me. "What's this?"
I shook my head. "I-I don't know. They started popping and then the person came after me."
"And did you see if the person left?" he asked me.
"No. I fell into the backyard, and when I looked back they were gone," I told him.
They finished their scouring of the ground floor and moved over to the closed basement door. The pair pulled out their bright flashlights and moved downstairs. I inched inside and listened to their feet creak down the stairs.
A crack followed by a thud echoed up the stairs, and one of them swore.
"What happened?" the lead cop asked his companion.
"The step broke beneath me," came the reply.
"Stay there and let me shine my light around," the lead cop told his partner. There was a few tense moments before I heard his voice. "Nope. Nothing here. Let's get upstairs."
They shuffled up the stairs and one of the limped into the living room. The officer leaned against the wall and rubbed his ankle.
"You might want to get those stairs checked out," he advised me.
"I'll go check the upstairs," the white officer volunteered as he turned to me. "Could you tell me what's up there?"
"Just my bedroom and the bathroom," I told him.
He nodded. "All right. Both of you stay here and wait until I return."
"You know the rules. Don't go alone," his partner scolded him.
"I won't be long," he promised.
He walked upstairs and we listened to his footsteps. They traversed the entire upper floor and he returned in five minutes with his gun holstered. "If there was somebody they're gone now," he informed us.
"But there was somebody. I saw them," I insisted.
The officer pulled out his notepad and a pen. "Did you see anything to identify the intruder?" he asked me.
"They're hands were really pale, and they had red eyes," I told him.
His pen paused over the paper and he raised an eyebrow. "Red eyes?"
I nodded. "Yeah, like glowing coals, and he seemed to float across the floor."
"So you think it's a man?" he wondered.
I shook my head. "I don't know. They were covered in a cloak from head to foot, but they were so tall I just kind of figured that's what they were."
He scribbled a few notes and pocketed the pad. "There doesn't seem to be any sign of a forced entry. Do you regularly keep your doors and windows locked?"
"All the time," I confirmed.
"Did you lock it tonight?" he persisted.
I opened my mouth, but paused. "I. . .I don't know."
"We'll dust for prints and see what we can find. Do you mind coming with us to the station so we can get a match for your prints and a written statement?" he requested.
"Sure, no problem," I agreed.
There was no way in hell I was going to stay alone in my house.
CHAPTER 3
They took me to the police station and set me down on a bench in front of the main desk. It was a Friday night and the place was a little crowded with all walks of city life. Some officers brought in a couple of transvestites from a rowdy party downtown, another cop had a punk who had sprayed graffiti on the mayor's office, and then there were the clowns. A long line of them marched past me for fingerprinting and a short lockup. What I gathered from the clowns and cops was that a convention had gotten out of hand when someone made an unfunny joke.
I sighed and leaned back against the bench. What a day. First I get that scolding from my boss, and now I get an unexpected and unwanted guest.
Someone plopped down so close beside me that our arms nearly brushed against each other. I frowned and looked at the stranger. It was a handsome man with short spiked hair that poked out at all angles. His autumn-colored eyes were as sharp as his hair. The guy had a crooked smile and wore a tan overcoat with heavy black boots. He looked to be about twenty-five and had a cigarette dangling out of one corner of his mouth.
"You're Enid Runa, aren't you?" he asked me.
"Who wants to know?" I returned.
He looked at me out of the corners of his eyes and studied my face and body. "I heard about your case, and I thought I could help you."
"So are you a detective or something?" I asked him.
The man chuckled. "Or something," he replied.
He pulled a card from his overcoat and handed it to me. I read the contents out-loud.
"Paranormal Detective Ian Osman." There was a phone number at the bottom. I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
"Very serious, and I'd like to help you with your problem," he told me.
"How are you going to help me?" I asked him.
"I heard the details of your case from a friend and thought you had a good chance of being haunted by a malevolent spirit," he explained.
I scoffed. "I don't think there's any way a spirit would suddenly haunt the house I've been in for two years unless it's the ghost of a chicken, and that definitely didn't look like a chicken," I assured him. I held out his card and he took it back. "Thanks for the help, but no thanks."
He pocketed the card and studied my face. "It gave you a chill before you saw it, didn't it?" he guessed.
I frowned. "How'd you know that?"
"And you could see your breath, couldn't you?" he persisted.
I stood and glared down at him. "Now you're just guessing."
He looked up at me and took the cigarette out of his mouth. "But I'm guessing right, aren't I?"
I sighed and grudgingly nodded. "Yeah."
He stood and placed the cigarette back in his mouth. "Then I can help you because these guys are just going to look at you like you're nuts."