INTRUDER

There’s an intruder in the house. I huddle under my blanket, straining my ears for any sound of movement. The monster has not allowed me to see his face, but I’ve glimpsed him there, lurking in the darkness. I’ve heard his stealthy movements.

I don’t know his identity or his intentions, but I suspect the worst. I fear he will come for me while I sleep. I dare not close my eyes, but I cannot maintain this vigil much longer. My body begs for rest, for peace. But how can I sleep knowing there’s a monster under my roof? I tense at every squeak or groan of the old house, sure my attacker approaches.

Two guards are pledged to protect me. But I can’t fully trust them. They speak no English, and they’re given to loafing and sleeping on the job.

Exhausted, I sink into fitful sleep. Morning arrives. My situation looks moderately better in daylight. The guards on duty appear alert and competent. A fellow prisoner bravely, recklessly conducts a search for the intruder, finding nothing. I don’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.

“Perhaps he’s gone,” I whisper.

The guards glance at me, and seem to roll their eyes, regarding me as foolish.

I try to act normal, carry out tasks as if nothing is wrong. But then a floorboard creaks, or a door squeaks. My heart stops, the hair on my neck bristles. I feel watched, a prisoner in my own home.

I watch as my fellow prisoner sets traps designed to stop the intruder, or at least slow his progress and alert us of his approach. The guards seem to approve, but with the language barrier it’s impossible to be sure.

 As evening approaches my gut churns and my nerves tingle. The guards must be feeling the same thing. They are doubling their patrols. Another sleepless, terror-filled night stretches before us. Fear pushes me to near-tears.

When morning finally comes, the traps are untouched. Yet the signs of an overnight presence are undeniable. I’m beginning to think there may be more than one. What do you want from us?

Day two of imprisonment is spent whispering plans for a counter-attack then finding reasons those plans can’t possibly succeed. The guards are particularly lazy today, further eroding my confidence in them. However, as the day fades to evening, they become alert and animated. I don’t understand their words, but I can tell they sense an attack is coming.

Midnight finds me again huddled in my blanket, alert for any unusual sound. The guards’ footsteps in the hallway reassure me they are making frequent patrols, but I still can’t bring myself to close my eyes.

Snap! The sharp crack echoed in the quiet house, followed by the guards’ running footfalls. I remain under my blanket, wide-eyed, as my fellow prisoner rushes to investigate.

His excited shout rings out from the other room. “We’ve got the mouse!”

The guards “Meow,” in agreement.