A knock on the door. Followed by six more. Staccato wraps follow the first soft touch. A solitary light shone in a living room.
The full moon rises. It lights the last house on the pavement. The road falls to gravel and disappears into the woods. The woods reaches around the simple house and its barn. The white glow of the moon paints it better in the night than the Sun. The door hides within a small porch, shrunk by the boxes and tables stacked around.
The hand rises again. The knocks continue six at a time. Staccato beats.
“Hang on baby! hang on…. We’ll get you help.” Brian looks down. A face looks back.
“No one will open the door… it’s too late they’ll never open the door.” Connie voice fades. Her jeans covered in blood. The yellow t-shirt dirt covered and suddenly wore out. “It’s cold. Maybe there’s blanket in this stuff. Maybe morning…”
“I see someone. They are in there. They’ll help us.” Brian wipes his head. A streak of blood runs down fron his forehead. His face shows he doesn’t think help is coming.
Brian returns to the door. A series of knocks continues. Each becoming a little more panic stricken. “Hello?! We need help. Just call the police… anything! Please!”
Connie is on the wooden porch. She is sitting against soft boxes that lean over toward her a bit. She’s scared but holding on a brave front. “Sit next to me. The morning.. They’ll see us.”
Shuffling sounds inside stop her. The dragging and stopping catch their attention. The door had three little boxes that show how dark the inside is but little else.
“If you open that door, I’ll kill you both. Shotgun is in my hands.” The voice followed by a tapping on the other side of the door. “You live to see tomorrow…. I’ll habe to deal with Y’all then. Stop banging or you’ll wake up the Dead!”
The shuffling starts again. This time fading away. The single light flashes out.