It was a hot summer evening. The sun was setting, leaving bright orange and pink scars across the sky, the colours intermixing, resembling a watercolour painting.
I was sitting on my back porch, beer in hand. I leaned back in my chair, bringing the beer bottle to my lips, draining the remnants of the beverage. The foamy amber liquid slid down my throat, quenching my thirst.
It had been a long day. Out of the five large fields of the farm, I had managed to harvest three of them in one day. I stared ahead at the cornfields, their stalks swaying gently in the breeze. I’d get to them tomorrow.
I got to my feet and meandered inside, the screen door slamming behind me. I made my way to the lounge, stopping at the fridge to grab another beer. I flopped onto the couch, kicking my feet up onto the coffee table as I switched on the TV, settling on an old black and white movie that was screening.
* * * * *
A loud scream startled me.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes.
It was pitch black outside and the only light on in the house was the light flickering from the television.
I look around. I must have fallen asleep in front of the TV. Not the first time that had happened after a long day.
Breathing hard, I ran my hands through my hair as I got to my feet. Had I heard right? Did a scream awaken me?
I grabbed the beer bottle that must have slipped from my hand as I nodded off and made my way to the kitchen.
My head snapped up as a woman’s screamed echoed through the stillness of the night.
Dropping the bottle, I turned, racing upstairs, taking them two at a time. I barrelled through the door of my bedroom and began fumbling with the keys to my gun case.
Taking out my rifle, I grabbed some ammunition and made my way back downstairs.
By now, my eyes had adjusted to the lack of light. I loaded the gun, my back pressed against the wall as I crept silently through the house.
I pushed open the screen door, my bare feet padding lightly over the rough wooden floorboards.
I couldn’t see anything, aside from the stalks of corn in the nearby fields, swaying with each gust of summer breeze.
I stepped off the porch, aimed my gun in the air, and fired a warning shot.
It echoed loudly.
Silence.
I didn’t know what was happening. I cocked my head to one side and listened intently.
Nothing.
I headed back inside and called the police. I informed the officer that I was awakened by a woman screaming from what sounded like the cornfields. They assured me they’d send someone around right away.
I headed back upstairs, unloaded my weapon, and placed it back in its locked case.
The police were true to their word. They arrived and did a quick search of the area, their flashlight beams bouncing off the crops. I answered their questions, confirming that I was asleep on my couch when I was awakened by a scream. And that a second scream had followed before I fired my warning shot.
The police assured me that it was probably just kids, bored in the final days of summer vacation. That my warning shot had probably scared them off the property.
I thanked them for coming out, waving them off as they got into their patrol car and left.
Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was close to midnight. Taking it as a sign, I retired upstairs to bed.
* * * * *
A loud thump startled me from my deep slumber.
Groggily, I sat up, the sheet falling away. This was starting to become a habit.
I swung my legs out of the bed when I heard creaking again. My eyes snapped open when I realised that the sounds were coming from downstairs.
I grabbed my keys, unlocking my gun case. Grabbing my rifle, I quickly began searching the room for the ammunition.
The noises from downstairs grew louder. It sounded like more than one person was searching through my belongings.
A single bullet fell from my hand. I held my breath as it landed on the floor. I closed my eyes, counting silently from ten. The intruder, or intruders, didn’t notice the noises coming from my room.
I scooped up the bullet and jammed it into the pocket of my pajama pants along with a few others in case I needed to reload. Slowly, I inched closer to the door.
As I turned the handle, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. My mouth was dry as though it had been filled with cotton.
I emerged from the room, my feet softly creeping across the landing. My eyes had adjusted well to the darkness as I reached the top of the stairs.
From where I stood, I could make out the small hallway between the kitchen and the lounge.
I took a step when a silhouette made its way from my kitchen, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.
I raised my gun. “Don’t. Fucking. Move,” I growled through clenched teeth.
The figure stood still, staring up at me. I couldn’t identify them.
My finger twitched, resting on the trigger.
The figure suddenly turned and casually walked in the direction of the lounge before breaking into a sprint as they raced out my front door.
I ran down the stairs, following them out the front door. I had lost them. It was almost like they had vanished into thin air.
I hurried back inside, calling the police for the second time within a matter of hours. The same officers returned to my farm, this time exploring more of the perimeter of my property.
The officers returned to my house, informing me that they couldn’t find anyone, but seeing as my kitchen was ransacked, they would stay on the property until the morning.
I thanked them before returning to bed.
* * * * *
As the sun began to rise, I stared blankly at my reflection in the mirror opposite my bed. I hadn’t slept a wink since I caught that intruder in my home.
I knew the cops were sitting outside my house. I had seen their patrol car during my many trips of checking the locks.
I made my way downstairs, putting on a pot of coffee. A sharp knock at the front door caused me to jump. I opened the door and greeted the two police officers.
“Morning, officers. Would you care for some coffee?”
I held open the door for them. One of the officers followed me to the kitchen, while the other headed upstairs to the bathroom.
“We didn’t see anyone return to your farm. We made routine patrols throughout the night and had a fellow cruiser do a round on the roads surrounding your farm. There is no one here.”
They drank their coffee, had a look around the house, and made some notes before leaving.
* * * * *
Sweat dripped from my brow as I tended the final cornfield. Starting up the combine harvester, I began ploughing through the rows of corn, squinting each time I turned into a new row due to the sun’s glare.
What was that?
I stopped the harvester. Something small and white stood out against the dark earth.
I slid down out of my seat and made my way over to the mysterious object.
My stomach dropped. The world began spinning as I dropped to my knees.
Nestled among the rows of corn, partially buried by the dirt, was a woman’s high heel.
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