25 Hour Watch

Johnny went to grab his shotgun but found nothing there, someone else was in the house. Instead, he went to the kitchen and reached for a blade; gripping the handle, he pulled the largest knife from its place on a wooden block, then started for the stairs.  He didn’t see anything thing out of place, but the light was on in the attic, and it hadn’t been opened in months.

He could hear something scuffling, salivating, slightly snarling; a wicked howl rang out across the rooftops, off the ceilings and down the open attic hatch to Johnny, who held a knife and flashlight, stepping up the stairs.  Johnny looked up to a well-lit attic, the steps had been drawn down, something moved above him, Johnny went to Jacob’s room to find the rifle.

Lightning struck and thunder snapped, rain began to sheet against the second story window of the Colby resident’s home, where Johnny had arrived ten minutes earlier, discovering broken front door glass, and a misplaced shotgun.

Johnny reached out and pulled Jacob’s rifle off the wooden rack and pocketed more shot, he moved his eyes over the ceiling above him, following the sound of scurrying, the disturbance in the house.  Definitely not a human.

Back into the hallway, an orange and yellow glow from the hole in the ceiling made the attic steps look foreign; Johnny lifted his hand closer on the barrel of Jacob’s rifle, honing his vision, readying his hands, quietly approaching the attic; his foot creaked against aged wood and the scurrying stopped, then everything went silent except for breathing.  Johnny struggled to control his, but the other’s was deep and steady, he heard it lick its lips.

Another step and creak.

It sniffed again and rumbled a growl, Don’t come up here, Johnny could feel the message, he waited on the third step from the top, it waited for him in the attic.  Johnny poked the gun up into the open space and waited for response, nothing.  Johnny stepped another closer to the top, easing his eyes over the surface of the attic floor.  Across the grains of wood, Johnny stared down at two green eyes with exploding black pupils, a gray coat of ageless, infinite fur; Johnny cursed and watched it drool before it pinned its ears and launched.

Its claws tore into the wood, they gained traction and sped toward the open attic door, Johnny pulled back and readied a shot, but the wolf skid by the open hatch, Johnny turned to run.  Down the stairs and past the kitchen, into the hallway, he felt it miss a bite attempt at his leg.  Running, sprinting, through the open front door, out on the entryway, it sunk its teeth deep into his calf and lamed him, Johnny fell helplessly to the ground and lost the rifle. He went to run but his left leg gave no response.  He began to call out for his life, screaming for help.

His nails dug into the floor, which did nothing to stop what was happening.  He was being pulled to his death, back up the stairs to the hallway,  up the creaky wooden steps and into the attic.  The animal shook him, like a rag doll, for what seemed like hundreds of seconds; thrown, Johnny came to a stop under the big attic window, the moon glowed righteously down upon him, the creature panted and slowly made its way over.

Johnny saw Jacob, a hole eaten through the side of his stomach, definitely dead, the missing shotgun was a few feet away.  Rain sprayed against the attic window, gusts of wind replaced the thunder, and the moon shone bright and full over Johnny.  The wolf returned and lifted Johnny by the belt and torso, then fiercely, side to side, the world went dark.

When the shaking stopped, the wolf’s paw pinned him to the ground, the creature looked to the heavens and howled, then began removing everything inside.