The Blood Red Indian Summer

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She woke up with a gasp, her heart pounding. Sweat poured from her as she lay there in bed under a single sheet. It was that awful nightmare-again. The one where he came for her in the night, hungry for her. The one where he did those horrible things to her. And she couldn’t stop him no matter how hard she fought him or-

Scritch… Scritch…

Except this was no nightmare. It was real. He was out there in the hallway turning the knob on her locked door, first one way, then the other.

Scritch… Scritch…

She scrambled up to a seated position, knees hugged to her chest, her breath quick and shallow, eyes wide with terror. It was 3:13 A.M. according to her bedside clock. Moonlight streamed in the open window.

Scritch… Scritch…

Such a tiny noise. But her senses were so alive that it had yanked her awake. Because she was expecting it, fearing it. That was why she’d locked her bedroom door.

Scritch… Scritch…

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