Wednesday's Word: An Excerpt From Small Town Escape

 Welcome to #WednesdayWords where I share a snippet of a story using yesterday's word from the New York game, WORDLE. Yesterday's WORDLE was WHICH.

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Later that night, after I’d finally been able to sleep, I woke when I heard a sound.

Tom! Had he found me?

My eyes snapped open. My heart pounded, and a cold shiver crept over my skin. In the dim moonlit darkness, a creepy creaking echoed through the halls. I lay in the corpse position, straining to catch any further sounds.

What had come first? The noises? Or the dreams of Tom?

My mind raced, imagination weaving sinister scenarios. The creaking intensified. Outside, the wind seemed to whisper nightmares, its fingers brushing against the windowpanes. A distant branch tapped insistently on the glass. The rhythm sounded like an unknown code.

Was my imagination on overdrive, or was something more menacing at play? My gaze darted to the antique grandfather clock in the corner, its pendulum swinging hypnotically. The rhythmic ticking that had earlier seemed like a soothing lullaby now mimicked a heartbeat. My thoughts went back to Phyllis reading Poe and his tell-tale heart.

Could Phyllis be prowling about?

Every creak of the floorboards and every sigh of the old house settling seemed amplified, morphing into Tom’s heavy footsteps. I clenched the bedsheets until my knuckles turned white with tension.

Why had I come here?

What had I hoped to prove?

Was this labyrinthine Victorian mansion with its ornate details a picture-perfect backdrop for a nightmare?

Swallowing hard, I strained my ears again, my senses attuned to the slightest noise. Was that a faint rustling sound? A murmur of movement from somewhere beyond my closed bedroom door? Dread pooled in my stomach, my muscles tensing like coiled springs.

Seconds ticked by in agonizing silence, each one a nail in the coffin of my rationality. I mustered the courage to slide my hand toward the bedside table, fingers inching toward my phone.

I froze with the realization that the call could be traced back to me.

There had to be a landline at the front desk, right?

I shot Atticus a quick glance. He lay snoring on his bed, chasing bunnies in his sleep. Falling back against my pillows, I stared at the ceiling and willed my heart to slow. It had all been a bad dream. A nightmare. Just like everything else about Tom.

Still, sleep eluded me. I crawled from the bed and crept across the room.

Atticus snorted and shifted when I opened the door, but he didn’t wake.

The door snicked closed behind me. Pale moonlight shot through the tree boughs. The brisk night air hit my lungs. An owl winged overhead. Shivering from cold or fright, I followed the porch to the front entrance. The night, full of shadows, was sleeping.

What had I expected to find? Three cars were parked in the lot. One was my Jeep. One must belong to Phyllis, so who drove the other car?

I crossed my arms when a chilly breeze stirred the air. Goosebumps rose on my arms. A sound drove my attention to the stained-glass doors.

A shadow darted past the window.

Someone was skulking in the front parlor, and they had a bag in one hand. The shattering of glass rent the air. Cursing followed.

My fingers flew to my lips. Was it Tom? How had he found me?

My first thought was to bolt to my Jeep, but I didn’t have my keys. I would have to return to my room, which would wake Atticus, who could be noisy. I took a deep breath, debating what to do.

The back door opened and closed. Footsteps pounded along the porch.

Gulping a deep breath, I tried the front door. It opened easily and without a sound. I scurried to the receptionist desk, squatted behind it, and picked up the old-fashioned phone and cradled it in my lap. With trembling hands, I dialed 911.

While I waited for the reassuring voice of the dispatcher, my gaze darted around the foyer, transforming shadows into Tom-like figures.

“Come quick,” I breathed into the phone when the dispatcher finally answered. “There’s an intruder.”

The old house seemed to hold its breath, its secrets closing in like a tightening noose. I clung to the phone, feeling the seconds stretch like an eternity until the distant wail of sirens cut through the night.

Relief flooded through me when red and blue lights illuminated the front parlor, banishing the darkness and uncertainty. I peeked through the window and watched the police car skid to a halt.