Private Eyes Are Watching You.

Jonathan sat up suddenly. He had been laying on the couch, reading a book when what sounded like a knock came from the outside wall in his living room. That didn’t make sense though to him. That meant someone would be knocking from the outside of the house, against a wall with no windows, for no discernable reason. And if someone was out there knocking, the motion detecting flood lights would have come on. He chalked it up to late night jitters and paranoia. He lay back down and immersed himself back into his book.

Two minutes later, he heard another knock. He ever-so-slowly and methodically put his book down on the coffee table in front of the couch as if he was moving in slow motion in molasses. As the book gently began to rest against the table, another knock came; this time much louder, and knocked at even, short intervals four times. He jumped up, and the book and his glass of water crashed onto the table, soaking the book, and his feet as the water sloshed it’s way off the coffee table. He knew he heard something that time, and that someone was on the other side of his wall. He began to think to himself that if someone was on the other side of that wall, that it wouldn’t take them long to realize that they could just move around to the back side of the house and have access through the windows. The worst part he thought, was that the windows were all wide open. It was a beautiful night, and a nice cool breeze had been blowing in. His sudden fear had caused his brain fight or flight mode, and really more flight, than fight. He wanted nothing to do with going near those windows. The knock came again, this time more hurried. However, it sounded like it was moving up the side of the house. To the second level. Where his wife and kids were sleeping.

Jonathan finally got hold of his senses, and ran out of the living room, and upstairs to the master bedroom. His wife was sound asleep. He paused at the door in the dark. The bedroom window was open here also. And then he heard the knocking again. Right there at the window. And saw what was causing the noise. The blinds had been gently swaying in the breeze, and would occasionally knock against the window sill when the breeze picked up. Since this window and the windows in the living room were directly above and below each other, it must have caused the knocking to sound like it was coming from outside. How his wife didn’t wake up, he had no clue, but at least he knew what it was.

He headed back downstairs, and checked the back door. He noticed that the back light hadn’t been turned on, and cursed himself. Had it really been someone out there, he would have never known anyway. He then went and shut the windows and continued to read. The motion lights came on a couple times, but when he looked outside, all he saw was some leaves blowing around, and once there was a rabbit. The knocking continued, but was much quieter with the windows shut, and no longer sounded like it was coming from the outside wall. Jonathan finished another couple chapters, and decided to head to bed.

As he turned off the lights downstairs, and walked past the front door, he couldn’t help but feel like there was something out there. He peered out though, and saw nothing.
“Just a little jumpy still from earlier” he said to himself.
He still headed up the stairs at a quickened pace. He got ready for bed, and then, closed the window in the bedroom. He climbed into bed with his wife, and went to sleep.


The next morning, his daughters were outside playing in the backyard. Amelia came running into the house.
“Daddy Daddy! How come the house is dirty?” she exclaimed.
“What do you mean?” he asked. He and his wife were fairly methodical about keeping a clean house.
“There’s feetmarks on the house!” Amelia stated. Jonathan was about to ask Amelia to show them to him, but just then, Abigail came walking in. She was younger by two years then Amelia, and with all the wisdom her three years could muster stated “Amelia, don’t you know ANYTHING?? That’s where the doggy climbed up to visit us!”
“What dog?” Jonathan asked.
“What dog?” asked Amelia.
“The doggy that talked to me last night.” Said Abigail. “We talked about you Daddy. I wanted to come get you so you could meet him, but he said I couldn’t. That I couldn’t tell…UH OH! I wasn’t supposed to tell you about him.”
“You must have been dreaming.” He stated. “Dogs don’t talk, and can’t climb houses”.
“This one can! He’s a big doggy. He has red eyes, and looks scary, but was nice to me. He said tonight we could go play together.”
“Abby, it was just a dream.”
“IT WAS NOT!!! Come look at where he climbed up.”

Jonathan took both his daughter’s hands and walked outside. They led him to the same area he thought he heard the knock the night before; the outside wall of the living room that had no windows. And up the sides of the house, in the siding, where what appeared to be dusty foot prints. Large, dirty, somewhat canine looking with pads and claw marks gouged into the vinyl siding. All the way up to the second floor. He couldn’t see any marks, but he scanned over the backside of the house looking for more prints, or anything out of the ordinary. And at his daughter’s window, he saw that the screen appeared to be pried at and bent from the window.
“See daddy, the doggy wanted to play. He said we can tonight for sure.”

Abigail ran off to play on the swingset.

Song for the Dead

She walked across the floor quickly. The worn and faded oak floor was cold on her bare feet. Goose bumps raced up her naked legs, but terminated where the bottom of his t-shirt met the middle of her thighs. She plopped down on the couch, careful not to spill the bowl of Marshmallow Matey’s she held in her hands. The boy who lived here was still asleep. His roommate was never around, she was probably at her boyfriend’s apartment. She turned on the television. MTV was playing a marathon of “Undressed”. She found that as acceptable breakfast entertainment, and dug in. She felt there was something comfortable about this tiny apartment.

The boy woke and sleepily shambled down the hall to the living room, pausing to take in the scene before him. She sat on his couch, slurping up the last of the milk from the cereal bowl, wearing nothing but his Get Up Kids t-shirt and a pair of boy shorts. He couldn’t help but grin. He hadn’t seen her in two years, but she happened to be at the same show he was at the night before, and now here she sat in his living room.

She saw him standing there grinning. She could tell immediately this had been a mistake. She loved him, but she knew he loved someone that no longer existed. It had been two years since they had last seen each other, and that distance fueled much of what led up to this point. She started sobbing.

He stood there, saw the color go from her face, and saw her start crying. He walked over to her and put his arm around her. She shrugged away from him. He again tried to just touch her, to provide some comfort. But all she did was stand up crying, and walked back to the bedroom. He attempted to follow, but she locked him out. He pleaded with her to open the door, to just let him in, and to talk about whatever was bothering her. He watched her open the door, and walk out fully dressed, and leave without saying a word.

She couldn’t leave fast enough. Every minute there had felt familiar and comfortable and warm and impossible. She walked out the door, not even saying goodbye. She walked down the street, talking herself back to being calm and composed. When she got to the corner, she waited for the #4 bus. She wanted to put a million miles between herself and that apartment.