The Intruder

Note: This is an excerpt from my book, Kentucky Family.

When I hear a strange noise in the night, I usually chalk it up to some critter moving around outside, the pipes, or the heater or air conditioner, depending on the season.  I briefly contemplate it, and then just go back to sleep, content that my husband is there with me, so at least I won’t die alone if a crazed murderer was breaking into my house.  

If you’ve ever lived by yourself for very long, however, you understand the irrational fears that “strange noises in the night” can cause.  When you live alone, strange noises could very well mean something dark and dangerous is lurking in your home, and there is no one there to protect you but yourself.  

One summer night back when I was in college, I was awakened from a deep sleep by a strange scratching noise in my room.  My eyes flew open immediately, but this didn’t do much good, since I am so severely nearsighted that I can barely see my hand in front of my face without my glasses.  

I peered groggily through the darkness of my bedroom and felt my heart stop when I glimpsed a large, dark shadow lurking right next to my bed.  It was definitely as tall as a person, and just stood there, quietly watching me.  

I fought down the urge to scream as a million thoughts raced through my mind.  I began carefully calculating how far I would have to reach to grab the phone from my bedside table, and whether or not I would have time to dial 9-1-1 before said intruder grabbed my wrist and began beating me, or worse.  

Goosebumps broke out over my entire body, my skin seemed to be crawling all over, and beads of sweat instantly popped out on my forehead.  

I felt a helplessness and an uncertainty that I’d never experienced before.  I stayed as still as possible, hoping naively that the would-be killer, or whatever he was, would simply leave me alone.  Don’t ask where this faulty logic came from, but I am obviously not one who handles crisis situations very well!  

Suddenly, I heard a rustle, and the shadow began to move.  My heart lurched as I glanced from the shadow to the phone on the nightstand and back again.  

Questions raced through my panic-stricken mind.  Should I make a run for it?  Could I grab the phone first and hit 9-1-1 as I ran to the door?  Could I even make it to the front door and unlock it without being grabbed?  If I screamed, would any of my neighbors hear me?  What if he had a gun … or a knife?  What if he reached out and stabbed me as soon as I moved? Why had I allowed myself to watch so many scary movies?  

My breath came in shallow little gasps and I began to whimper as the shadow seemed to slowly and silently turn towards me a bit.  

Then, suddenly, when I was sure I couldn’t take it any more and my heart was going to burst, the shadow … meowed.  

Meowed?  Yes, meowed. 

Thanks to my nearsightedness and the darkness of my bedroom, I had mistaken my cat for a deranged serial killer.  She was sitting calmly on the edge of the bed, yet from the angle where I was laying and with the dim light from the hallway, her body cast a huge shadow on the wall that looked just like a person standing beside the bed.

It took forever for my hammering heart to slow down and allow my breathing to return to normal.  Sleep was out of the question, for several hours, at least.  I tossed and turned, as my cat snuggled up on the pillow next to me, purring contentedly, with no idea of how she had nearly frightened me to death. At least one of us got some sleep that night!