A Light Dust
A Light Dust
Something Rattled. It was a movement. In that instant of dark silence it must have seemed like a lifetime. She waited again, and the silence was louder. That’s when she realized someone was inside her bedroom and it wasn’t her husband.
She flicked on the bedside lamp, knocking everything over. Including a full glass of water and her sleeping pills. Panic filled her heart as she reached for the phone. Horrible images played crazily inside her mind. It was taunting her, but she had to buckle down. She needed to regain composure. She poked out two of the three numbers needed for help. Nine and the one stayed on her mind. It kept playing over like a recording. Nine and one. But those two numbers did her no good. She needed to stab the last one. The intruder had gotten to her before she could press one more digit. He jerked the phone line from the wall and wrapped it around her neck all in one motion.
A light dust unpleasantly drifted into the air as she gasped for her last breath. That last moment of life was very violent as she kicked him, which momentarily knocked him off guard. He was just about to let the phone cord go, but he snapped back to reality. He was enraged, so while he strangled her, he struck her, closed hand, tight fist.
When the room was silenced and the telephone line hit the bed sheets, she slumped to the floor. Her sleeping pills next to the foot of the bed, and the water staining a very expensive carpeting. She was on the floor, lifeless and without a care in the world.
Her ghost was probably thinking about that one number. That last digit she needed to trigger the 911 emergency response. It was her only chance at survival. One more number, and her murder may have been preventable. The voice on the other line may have caused the intruder to run. However, it wasn’t guaranteed, but it was her only chance.
Her spirit hovered briefly, then floated away like a light dust in the breeze...
© 2011 Frank Atanacio
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