Creature of Habit
Halloween short story
Creature of Habit
“Did you lock the door?” asked Diane
“Of course.” said Dave.
It was part of their ritual. Every night as they went to bed, Diane would ask, and Dave would answer.
Things seemed to work better, there was a comfort level, in routine. They both arose every morning at 6 am, even on weekends. They went downstairs and had a breakfast of cereal, usually Rice Krispies, or if they felt like abandoning routine, Cheerios. They also drank a cup of coffee as they watched the local news. There was even a routine in the local news. The weather lady appeared at exactly the same times, and the news stories were pretty much the same stories, just the names and locations of the car crashes and shootings varied from day to day.
It was a comfortable, predictable routine for Dave and Diane. Dave went to work at the Post Office, sorting mail at the main station. Diane worked at the library. They each took the bus, having bought this home because it was on the appropriate bus line. On weekends, they had a set list of chores. Dave ran the vacuum, Diane dusted. They did dishes by hand even though they had a dishwasher. They felt the dishwasher didn’t get the dishes clean enough.
Tonight had been Halloween. They generally got a pretty large group of kids. Although Dave and Diane had no children of their own, they enjoyed the neighborhood kids coming around to trick or treat. It was interesting to see how the neighborhood changed over the years; the children had started out younger, some years ago. Now they were getting older. Eight to ten years ago the kids were young, and their parents led them around. Now, the kids were older and went by themselves. And older kids led the newer batch of younger kids.
They knew a few of the kids by name, some they recognized but couldn’t name, and some they knew not at all. For that matter, they recognized some of the costumes, but as new Hollywood blockbusters came out, they spawned new super hero costumes that Dave and Diane did not recognize. Dave used to ask about some of the costumes, but kids would look at him strangely. “I’m Wolverine, of course,” replied one child, who wondered how Dave could not know this. So, Dave didn’t ask anymore.
Dave and Diane watched a little television after the kids had stopped coming, and then they went up to bed.
“Did you lock the door?” asked Diane.
“Of course,” said Dave.
But had he? It played in his mind. He was sure he had, but not quite entirely. He had the same problem with his pills. When you do the same thing every day as part of a routine, you remember that you did it, but did you do it today? A pill caddy worked for the pills, but not for locking the door.
Had he? Had he locked the door? Of course, he thought to himself. He didn’t want to have to get up to check. It wasn’t just the bother of it, it was also that getting up to check wasn’t part of the routine. Go to bed and stay there, until 6 am.
Dave looked over at Diane, who was already beginning to doze off. He just couldn’t let go of the feeling that he hadn’t locked the door, so he rose quietly to go downstairs to check. There was light enough to see without turning anything on, and the less he disturbed things, the better. He checked the door. It was unlocked! How could he have forgotten? Well, no harm done. He turned the knob to lock the door. Then he turned to head upstairs.
But what was that?! A sound in the kitchen. Did someone, or something, come in the door before he had a chance to lock it? He stood motionless, straining to hear. There it was again, but this time in the dining room. Not loud, quiet, and it seemed like the sound of something being dragged. He strained to hear it, and processed in his mind what it was that could make that sound. A body being dragged would sound like that. But what body? Who would be dragging it? No, it couldn’t be that, but what? An animal? Coyotes and wolves had been spotted in the neighborhood. Maybe.
Dave could see, but not well. But he dared not turn on a light and reveal himself. Dave stood on his spot and looked around for something he could defend himself with. By the door there was the cane that his Uncle Lou had left behind and never bothered to recover. Dave picked it up, holding it from the end such that he would be able to use it as a weapon. He moved slowly, as silently as possible, to the dining room. But now he heard it in the living room! But something moved, right off to the right, just a few feet away. He swung at it and there was a crash of breaking glass. He had destroyed the lamp that Diane had just bought yesterday at her favorite antique shop.
Diane called down. “What was that? What are you doing?”
“Stay upstairs. There’s something down here.”
“Something? What something?”
“I don’t know, I can’t see it, but I hear it.”
“Well, turn on the lights at least, and then you can see.”
Diane didn’t understand. Lights would reveal him as well as it would reveal whatever was making that sound. Better to leave the lights off. “Just stay upstairs and be quiet.”
Diane did as he said, standing at the top of the stairs, listening.
Dave moved slowly, as silently as possible, heading toward the living room. It must be in there. Whatever it is, it must be in there. There it is! I see it! It had human form and also crept quietly as if to avoid his notice. He raised the cane, prepared to strike at just the right moment. It was slowly coming closer to him, apparently not knowing he was there. Wait…
And then Diane turned on the lights. It was her reflection he had seen, in the mirror over the mantle. He turned to look directly at her.
“I told you to wait upstairs.”
“Well, I didn’t. What is going on here? What was that crash? Why are you holding Uncle Lou’s cane?”
“Unfortunately, I knocked over the new lamp. And there was a sound. I don’t know what it was. Sounded like dragging.”
They looked around, looked everywhere. They found nothing. Nothing disturbed, except for the lamp. Diane swept up its mortal remains and threw them in the trash.
They went up to bed. Dave couldn’t let go of that nagging feeling. He had heard it. There was no getting around it. Who knows what might have come in through that unlocked door? Or where it was, right now.
“You did lock the door after all this, didn’t you?
“Of course.” But he couldn’t sleep.
Fun!!