Fight Or Flight (standard:drama, 2844 words)
Author: Tony Dungate	Added: May 12 2008	Views/Reads: 3246/2359	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A father takes desperate steps to protect his family and home. But does he go to far?

Fight Or Flight 

It was one hour before midnight. A hard rain continued to pour. The rain
had been steady since early afternoon. It was far more noticeable at 
this time of night. The house was quiet. Everyone was asleep except for 
one person. Rick lay in bed wide awake. He had been in bed for an hour. 
That nap he had in the afternoon prevented him from dozing off. He 
could hear the rain as if he were in the middle of the storm. The rain 
crashed down, the thunder shook his already taunt nerves, and the 
lightning lit up the room every time it occurred. 

The house was dark. All of the lights had been turned off and the front
and back doors were lock before retiring for the night. He had heard 
small noises from downstairs. Noises he attributed to the hamster. She 
was always sharpening her teeth on the cage. 

The last noise seemed a little louder than normal for this time of
night. A small crash like glass smashing. As he lay in bed senses 
sharpened trying to determine if it was inside or outside on the 
street. After a few seconds he relaxed. He hadn't heard anymore noise. 

As he tried to relax he thought of what he might do if someone was
actually in the house. Would he get tough, run out of the room, turn on 
the light upstairs light and run downstairs ready for conflict? Or, 
would he quietly get out of bed and creep over to the top of the stairs 
and then move down into the kitchen to dial 911? Would someone be 
carrying a gun or a knife? Would they be waiting to kill him? He felt 
nervous at the thought. Wouldn't it be better to stay in bed and let 
the person take what they wanted. But what about his family's safety? 
Could he stay back in the shadows if they were attacked? 

He decided that he needed to check the house. He would feel better if he
checked the house from top to bottom. He had does this in the past and 
felt better for it, usually enough to fall asleep. Slowly, and he felt 
his body resisting, he slipped off the covers and swung his legs over 
the bed. Grabbing his pants and shirt, he donned them. The rain was 
even louder now, like someone had turned up the volume. He slowly 
walked towards the bedroom door, straining to distinguish possible 
noises from downstairs against the noise of the rain. He peered through 
the open door. The hamster seemed quiet. He made his way to the top of 
stairs. The parquet tiles that had popped up from the bathroom leak 
creaked from stepping on them. He listened as he reached the top of 
stairs. All he could hear was the rain. Was that good or bad? 

He slowly started to walk downstairs. The rain started to slow down to a
sight drizzle. Like a movie script, he thought, he could hear any sound 
now. The hamster had gone quiet, could she see him coming down? She 
generally walked over to the edge of the cage expecting to get taken 
out. As he made his way half way down the stairs, he felt a cold 
breeze. He didn't remember leaving any windows open. In fact he 
remembered shutting all of the windows in the afternoon to keep the 
rain and dampness out. His nerves went tense, the hairs on the back of 
his neck stood up. Something wasn't right. His breathing went quick and 
shallow. 

He peered over the banister towards the living room. No sign of anything
amiss. His eyes started to become accustomed to the darkness. The light 
from the backyard came through the patio door's vertical blinds. But 
the blinds were moving in and out, swaying from the storm's wind. The 
back door was open! 

Looking towards the bathroom at the end of the stairs he saw no
movement. He slowly moved down the last five steps until he was level 
with the dining room. The dining room was half a level up from the 
living room. He now felt a cold chill run down his spine. A feeling 
that he experienced whenever he was he watched those horror movies that 
felt a little too close to home. He looked towards the kitchen to the 
right of the dining room. He decided to move towards the kitchen. 
Perhaps he could grab a knife, or even a broom. 

He cautiously walked the few steps towards the kitchen watching the
living room area. Just before he got to the kitchen door, he looked at 
the TV stand in the living room. Where the DVD player had sat on top of 
the TV, there was now a square dust line. His heart started to pump 
uncontrollably as if would explode right out of his ears. Someone had 


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