NGG Valentine '99 Essay Competition entry

Andy McClelland

Tread briefly

It is night ...

A sudden draught from nowhere makes you shiver, as you curl up on the sofa, totally comfortable being alone, even tonight. You make a note to find the leak and fix it, but not tonite. The one whom you love is away, and not even reachable by telephone. Naturally of course, the two of you celebrated thoroughly before he left, and you are feeling warm and contented as you sit before the fire. You hear a sound, a click, and you realise that the door to the room has opened. You get up and go through the house, checking each and every door and window, sure that they are all locked. But you are on your guard. You stop in your bedroom and check through the collection in your closet, picking one item, and taking it back to the fireplace. You close the door, to give yourself notice, if you need it. When you get there, you think that you can smell something. Cooking, maybe. Possibly the remaining smells of that gourmet dinner you shared the night before your love left.

Still, that draught of air has given the fire a boost, it's looking much more cheerful now. In fact the whole room seems warmer somehow. As you settle back down on the sofa, you realise that there is a drink on the table next to it. This is really a concern.

"That's funny," you think to yourself, "I don't remember getting that drink.

Now, you were thinking of getting yourself a drink, but you are quite sure that you didn't actually get around to doing it. Well, it's there, and you aren't the kind of girl to settle for too much of a mystery. You place it on the mantle, with a plate over it. You'll call Em in the morning and arrange for her to analyze it and find out if there are any chemicals in there that should not be. You're suddenly very alert as you sit near the fire, waiting. . .

Just as you put your glass down on the mantle, you hear the door, which you are sure that you closed properly, click open again. There's that smell again; it is cooking.

Your reverie is interrupted by a voice, a man's voice:
"I thought that you might like something to eat."

You look up to see that in the open doorway is a man carrying a tray with several dishes, a glass, and a bottle of wine. He steps into the room and puts it down on the table. He pours a glass of the wine and hands it to you.

You swing around, steadying and aiming as you gently bring your selected sharp pointy thing to the ready. Your expert throw lands solidly to the flesh, as he passes out and falls to the ground, and tray, wine, glass, fall everywhere. Damn, you think. I have to get all those stains out of the carpet.

When the ambulance arrives you help them load him in. The attendant gives you a grin. "Great throwing, that! You managed to missed anything vital. When he gets over the fear, he'll be fine. A month from now, all he'll have is a scar to talk about." >