"Grrr" by David Lapage, Jr.

Grrr

by David Lapage, Jr.

I almost shit myself. I heard a loud noise outside my window.

I lowered the paperback I was reading, while quickly turning my head in that direction. I don’t know what I expected to see since the blinds were lowered and the curtains were drawn shut, but I stared that way, nevertheless, looking for what made the noise. 

It had been a growl. It sounded like a lion or a tiger, an absurd thought for rural Illinois, but the sheer volume of it froze me in my recliner. It was as if the beast creating the growl had been on the porch just outside the window.

I looked around the room, listening for any other noise. I was the only one in the house, so besides the frantic beating of my own heart, there were no sounds.

I stared back at the ugly maroon curtains. A housewarming gift from my sister. I put them up when I moved in two years ago with the intention of replacing them but never got around to it. Also, my sister likes to see them on her yearly visit and reminds me that she got them for me. The only thing she’s ever got for me. 

There was another low growl from the other side of the window. It was a guttural rumble, a sound like gravel grinding on stone, which vibrated through the windowpane and shook the blinds. It was a sound full of teeth, far too deep for a house cat.

I froze. Not even daring to breathe. I heard the ice maker in the kitchen drop some ice into the bin, an ordinary noise that felt like thunder in the silence. Whatever was out there was massive and could come through the glass with terrifying ease. 

I thought about getting up and peeking out the window to see what was there. Pull the curtains aside and get a view of the creature. More terrible ideas flashed through my mind. I could go to the front door and open it. Step outside and find out what is on my porch. Shoo it away with my book or a hat I’d grab off the coat rack as I go out there, a ridiculous notion to face a predator with a baseball cap. I gripped the armrests of my recliner instead.

As if anticipating my arrival, I heard the porch boards groan as the beast shifted its weight. Was it waiting for something? Was it waiting for me? I had no way of knowing unless I got up to see what was going on. But another creak made all my terrible ideas of confrontation vanish instantly. I was good right here. 

I have read plenty of books and seen my share of movies to know that investigating what was out there would not end well for me. I also knew the longer I sat here, the more my imagination would run wild. 

With a deep breath, I tried to convince myself to be brave. I mentally championed myself. I got this! I told myself, the words felt thin and pathetic even inside my own head. I was going to move to the back door on the count of three. I could run over to the neighbor’s house and ask for help. Bob and Janie would be asleep since it was after nine, but I could pound on the door. 

One…

A better plan surfaced: I'd grab my phone off the kitchen counter and call for help. I’d just have to move slowly and quietly. I started counting again.

One…

Two…

Then… movement on the porch. A thud echoed through the wall as the porch boards creaked under its weight and a groan as the creature stood. Then, a moment of silence before I heard a large, soft landing on the grass. A growl came again, but this time it was further away. The beast seemed to be on the move. I pictured it lumbering towards a new target. 

A wave of relief washed over me. I closed my eyes, the tension seeping out of my shoulders as I let out a long sigh.

Suddenly, a loud smack made me jump. My eyes snapped open, and for a moment, I was disoriented. My paperback had slipped from my lap and hit the floor. The sound had been a book, not a beast. I bent down and picked up the copy of Cujo from the floor, a nervous laugh escaping my lips. I must have fallen asleep.

All that terror, all that counting, all the frantic plans to face down a monster with a baseball cap—and it was all just the product of a cheap paperback. I shook my head and settled back in my chair, but this time, I set the book on the end table. I wasn't going to let that thing give me any more trouble.