Dread the Dark by A C Utter

Author:A C Utter [Utter, A C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-04-21T04:00:00+00:00

The Curse

It started out as a normal day. I woke up, brushed my teeth, went to work, and on the way home I stopped at the grocery store for a frozen pizza and some beer. I felt a little uneasy as I pulled into the driveway, parked, and exited the car, however nothing seemed out-of-place. The door was still locked, there weren’t any broken windows, so I figured it was just my brain playing tricks on me. I went inside and turned on the living room light.

As soon as I turned the light on, before I had a chance to close the door behind me, I felt two hands hit me in the back, giving me a violent shove forward. I stumbled forward, losing my balance, and dropped my groceries. However, I managed to get my hands in front of me so they hit the carpet before my face did. Heart-pounding, confused, angry, and with a fresh shot of adrenaline pumping through my veins, I began to get up so I could confront my attacker. Before I could get my feet under me, everything went black.

When I awoke I found myself in the living room, facing the couch, tied to one of my kitchen chairs. The lights were on, but I couldn’t see or hear anyone else in the house. My hands were tied behind me, and my legs were tied to the legs of the chair. As I tried to come to terms with what was happening, I struggled against the ropes, but they wouldn’t give. I glanced over at the clock and saw it was after eight pm. I had left the grocery store around five-thirty pm, so I had been unconscious for a while. As I glanced around the room, I noticed a rock by the front door and wondered if that was used to knock me out.

Just as I started to think maybe I was alone in the house, my assumed attacker walked into the living room. There wasn’t anything particularly menacing about him. He was about my height, around six feet tall, of average build, and probably no older than forty-five. He had sandy brown hair, brown eyes, about three days worth of stubble on his cheeks. He wore a black hoodie, black pants, and black shoes. He had a beer in his right hand and a piece of pizza in his left.

He stopped about six feet away from me and just stared at me. I think he was trying to look menacing, but was missing the mark. I didn’t think it would help to scream. I live in a quiet neighborhood on the outskirts of town, and although I do have neighbors, this house is new and well insulated. I knew I was going to have to either fight my way out or talk my way out. Since my arms and legs were secured to the chair, I was only left with one option.

“Hello. I’m Steve. Can you please help me understand what is happening?” I said, trying to sound genuine.

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