I suppose when writing a story, the best place to start is at the beginning of it all. Yet, I find it difficult to find a start here mostly because as I think back I realize that this was coming long before I knew it. This was planned before I moved to the country. The thought makes my skin crawl, knowing that I'd been watched for years without my knowing. There was a point when I was aware that I was being stalked, but it never really hit home until a couple of months ago when I found dead… things… outside my door with my picture tacked to it. The first time, I thought that it must have been purely a coincidence, and threw the dead rat away. It was almost nearly decapitated and I dropped it a few times on the way to the garbage by the road, gagging the entire time. But the next week when it was a cat I nearly cried myself to sleep, the same two nights later when it was a dog.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. What I know now helped me realize all the things that brought me to where I am. Some of the things were subtle. Like a man at the bar nonchalantly asking if I would ever consider moving to the country. Or a post card from the town I now live in, addressed to me but left completely blank. At the time I laughed and maybe considered the strangeness, but never thought too long on it. City life was fast and you couldn't linger too long, and I was always so busy with work or parties, or dating. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks, literally. I had spent all night at a club and as I paid my taxi, about ready to remove my heels and head up to my apartment, a masked man approached me holding a sack of something heavy. Suddenly he swung and the bag of bricks hit me in the gut, taking me to the ground in record time. He took off with my jewelry and my hand bag leaving nothing but the small dress on my body and a couple broken ribs. It was while I was recovering in the hospital that I decided enough was enough and moved to a quaint town in northern Florida.
It was love at first sight for me. The house was small and charming, like the town. I didn't have any neighbors and a pond sat in my backyard. At night I would sit on the back porch and listen to the frogs burp and assortment of bugs chirp and hum, reveling in the noisy silence of mother nature. It was peace that I had never experienced before in my life. It was short lived peace however, because shortly after was when the dead animals started to appear. My first thought was that it was the town people responsible for it. They must have disliked me for one reason or another, perhaps because I was a 'city girl' and didn't belong there. I reported the case to the police and besides a few scribbles in their books, left me with no answer or solution.
"Looks like raccoon's to me, miss." One officer offered as the examined the dead corpse.
"Or perhaps a stray." The other chimed in, a thick southern accent rolling off his tongue.
I crossed my arms, not happy with the way the officers were patronizing me. "But would a stray dog attack another dog like this? Then leave it on my front step?" I was trying not to burst into tears, partly from frustration, mostly because I was afraid.
The plumpest of the pair spoke up first. "If he has rabies he will."
"That he will."
I shook my head, still not pleased. "I'm sorry but I just can't accept that. It just doesn't seem right. What about my photo stuck to the dead animal every time? Did a dog with rabies do that?"
They looked at one another, clearly done with my questions.
"What?" I asked, knowing what they were silently saying. "Do you think I'm lying?"
The one with the accent cleared his throat. "Listen miss, it's not that we're callin' ya a liar, it's just that…" He trailed off.
"You're new in town. No one knows much about you. As far as everyone around these parts knows, you're just a city girl and, well, city girls are famous for dramatics." The chubby one finished. He swiped a thick finger under a red nose, trying to avoid my eyes.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "So I can't file a report because it will upset people and because I'm new? Did I get that right?" I paused, waiting for a reply, but none came. "I am an American citizen just like everyone else in the damn country and I have the right to be protected and served by the law just the same. I pay my taxes!" I stomped my foot, trying to get something out of the men.
"Alright listen!" The skinny one help up his hands in surrender. "How about we wait it out and if it happens again, lock your doors and call us, A.S.A.P." He looked at her with a tired look.
I took what I could get and soon I was left to face another night of agony alone. It was then when I wondered if moving away from the big city was really such a good idea. I didn't know what I was getting myself into out here, who these people were, what kind of animals really lived out here. I needed to calm myself down, it wouldn't do me good all shook up through the night. I'd be jumping at the first creak. So I indulged myself with a glass of wine, which quickly turned into two. It was at that time when a knock came from my front door.
My first thought was that it was the cops, come back to make a report finally. I would have given them hell, but it wasn't them. I peeped through the curtains and there was no one standing under the pool of yellow light on my porch. I waited a moment before opening the inside door. "Hello?" I called. Only crickets replied. I opened the screen door and pushed my head out, looking up and down the long porch for someone. I finally gave up the search and returned inside, locking the door behind me. I looked at the now half empty bottle of wine on my kitchen counter and shook my head. It was stupid of me to drink that much, defiantly when I was all alone. I picked up the bottle and returned it to the fridge.
Someone began pounding at my front door and I dropped my empty glass, letting it shatter on the floor. I swiveled on my heels but didn't move. I just stared through the archway out of the kitchen where the front door was just visible, trembling. I knew someone must have been messing with me now. They must have seen that the cops had come because of the stupid prank they pulled and was now trying to scare me further. I finally grew a spine and stomped to the door, flinging it open and bursting out to the porch.
"Get out of here you little shit! The next time you come around here you're going to be arrested!" I panted, looking around but seeing no one. "If you think you scare me, you're wrong. You're pathetic!" I shouted one last time before going back inside. I slammed the door and stalked up the stairs immediately. Behind me I heard a small crack. Just as I turned, the door flew open, shattering the glass on the door and simultaneously the power in the entire house cut out. I didn't realize that I wasn't breathing until I opened my mouth to speak a quiet hello.
"Who's there?" I whispered, my voice shook like a leaf as I still searched for my breath.