Shush Did You Hear That

Shush! My dog ears caution me. Did you hear that? I stop sorting coupons, and listen, hard. My husband is gone, and there are adult footsteps in my house. Hypervigilant, I hear the fast increased pounding beats of my fearful heart, a ticking clock, and the blower on the air conditioner. Sh! My imagination cautions me. SH! SH! SH! I silence myself further, frantically wishing the blower was not so loud. I am in the kitchen downstairs, and my innocent children are upstairs, alone, sleeping. I flip off the light, and melt onto the floor behind my island, out of sight of the swinging door, listening, frozen motionless with fear, waiting for the interlopers to decide our fate. The door opens rapidly. A stream of light lands on the block of knives on the counter. I wish I had hidden them. I am grabbed by both arms, and roughly brought to my feet. “Here’s the wife,” a gruff voice says, a man’s voice. “Sh!” the other one whispers. “Did you hear that?” A car door slams. My husband is home. Shush! Did you Hear That? Written 9-15-2018 Contest Sponsor: Anthony Slausen