Part 1 
The following story is about a little boy who witnessed the murder of his father. Follow the suspense thriller as it develops and see if you can predetermine its ending. It will be presented in a number of parts.
I had never liked staying at home alone, whether it was
nighttime or daytime. I like it even
less at night. My stepfather lived in
the country and my mother worked as a waitress at a popular hotel. You know what that meant. Being an only child, I had to stay at home
alone when she was working. O how I
dreaded those nights that she worked!
My father was murdered when I was eight years old. I had seen the whole thing happen. I saw the
assassin and he saw me. At that time
however, he was more concerned about his own safety so he ran. I saw him several times since then and he saw
me too but I was too afraid to tell.
There was a very evil look in his eyes and I knew that if I ever told
what I knew, some how he would find me before the police caught him. That would be the end of me. I saw my father die and I was afraid to
die. All of this made it a very
frightening experience for me when I had to stay at home alone. I always thought, “One of these nights
something horrible will happen to me.”
I waved goodbye to my mum at the door. I was trembling like a leaf and there was
perspiration on my forehead. If my mum
noticed it, she did not say. As she
walked down the narrow path that led to the main road, I almost called her back
to tell her what I had kept a secret these seven years. How it haunted me! And here I was all by myself again. This night would add to the many sleepless
nights I had endured. How long those
nights were! Well, I might as well
endure it.
I had taken one bite from the second sandwich when I
heard a knock on the door. My heart
thumped wildly as if it would burst my chest.
I thought, “Has he finally come?
Did he know I would be home alone?
Was this the moment I had dreaded?”
I began to wish that I had told my mother the entire
story. How my father was murdered, how I knew the man and why he was never
caught. But alas, I did not and now the
secret would die and be buried with me.
A louder pounding brought me back to the present crisis.
“But was it really he or was it someone else? If it wasn’t he, who could it be at this late
hour?” I checked my watch for the
hundredth time that night. It was 12:25
a.m. The knock became more
persistent. I cannot recall how long I
sat there on the sofa. Silently I
prayed, “Do let him go away. But him,
who? Who was out there? Was it he?”
The knock came again.
This time it was so loud that the very louvres in the door rattled. My trembling increased and I began to develop
an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“I must do something or else he may break in the door,” I thought.
There were three choices open to me. I could ignore the knock and simply pretend
to be asleep. But the reading lamp was
switched on and so was the television. I
could slip out the back door, climb the fence and escape. But I thought, “Suppose he chose to come
around the back that same time.”
After some deliberation I decided on the third
option. I called out with a boldness I
was far from feeling, “Who’s there?”
There was no answer. With a
slight tremor in my voice, I called out again.
I was hoping he did not recognise the tremor.
I called out two more times but without response. ”May be he has gone away,” I thought.
By this time the television station had ceased its transmission. The only sounds that could be heard in the
room was the ticking of the clock and the hum of the television speaker. About ten minutes passed.
There was no further knocking so I decided
that whoever had caused me so much discomfort had left. For how long I did not know. I did not have long to wait, however. As I moved to turn off the television set, I
was startled almost out of my wits. There
was an ear splitting rattle along the entire length of the paling to the
windward side of the house. It seemed so
loud that I was certain that my next door neighbour could have heard it. May be, just may be he would come out and
investigate,” I hoped in obvious futility.
There was the noise again. This
time it was at the back of the house. I
sensed he was playing a game with me.
Only that his fun was at my expense. The next time I heard the noise it
was to the leeward side of the house. He was
playing his game to a well thought out plan.
”What was his objective?” I wondered.
“Did he want me to let him into the house? Would he commit his second act of murder here
or did he want me to run out of the house?”
I am sure he must have been enjoying my
discomfort. How I wish for morning to
come and the sweet homecoming of my mother!
I checked my watch. It was now
1:05 a.m., just forty minutes since I had heard that first knock. Somehow it had seemed like hours.
My mother would not be home until 6:30 that
morning. What a long night it was going
to be! Could I last out? Would it be long and tortuous or would it be
like my father’s…short, quick and silent?
To be continued...
To be continued...
Stewart Russell © 1979
