She listens. Blood thuds in her ears.

Writing prompts this week courtesy of Katie Ward’s Girl Reading.

The storm came quickly, wind battering rain against glass to seep into her sleep, waking her. She rolls over, feels the empty space beside her. Still warm. She reaches for the bedside lamp. Nothing. Damn.

Slipping from the bed she feels her way to the window, stumbling on discarded clothes, banging against the dresser. She pulls aside the curtain, to see only streaming water. Beyond is blackness. The whole street is out.

The walls are her guide to the bedroom door, which is open to an enveloping darkness. She wraps her arms about herself. Her phone is in the kitchen, with its torch. There are candles in the drawers, matches. A visceral urgency to bring light to the house rises in her.

She could return to bed, to sleep, forget the storm … but where’s John?

‘John,’ she calls again.

The answer sounds up the stairs. Bang, bang, bang. Steady, consistent.

The storm has loosened something, she tells herself. John is outside searching for the source. Wanting to ensure their safety.

Except the sound comes from inside. From the hall.

She listens. Blood thuds in her ears.

Breathing. On the landing. Stealthy footsteps on the polished wood.

She backs away, hand to her thudding heart.

The bedside light flicks on and she sees him, in the doorway.

Not John.

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Find Cheryl’s flash fiction and short stories, including audio versions of some, here!