“Winters in Maine” by Chloe Maciejewski

Written by plumtree

Topics: Archive (2012-2019), Uncategorized

Finally my own house! I thought excitedly, looking around the entrance, seeing thousands of boxes piled up to the ceiling, leaning against the walls as if relaxing after the long ride in the moving van. I checked my watch, and the time was 2:20 PM. It was snowing outside, which was to be expected in Maine. Winter was upon us, and outside it looked like the town was 6 feet under, completely under snow, never to be dug up again, perfect for skiing. When I’m finished unpacking I’ll go skiing! Where should I unpack first? I skipped to the kitchen, enjoying the freedom this house gave me. I wanted to run through the halls, kicking up the dust that the previous owners had left in their absence.

My father had died 2 months ago and had left me all his inheritance. He had been a tall, broad shouldered man that had been in the army and until the end of his days worked as a CEO in his own company. I had never really knew what my father’s business did, and I didn’t ask. My stepmother and I agreed that I should move out to get over the loss, so we found this house for me to live in. My stepmother picked this house out herself, and when I saw it I immediately fell head over heels in love. It was all I ever wanted, being somewhere where it snowed a lot, so I could sled and ski without a lot of struggle to get there.  We had lived in New York, so it was a big hassle trying to go skiing somewhere. There was so much traffic! My stepmother was content that I could afford the house by myself, seeing as she always had trouble with managing her money. Until he died, my father had supported her. He had supported her for so long, I didn’t know what she would do. I gave her an offer to stay with me, but she explained that she couldn’t accept it. “Honey, you need to go on without me, I can’t help you anymore,” she had said with remorse in her voice.

As I reached for the kitchen door handle, there was a prodigious crash from inside. I immediately wanted to see what had happened, but I knew better. I had a sickening feeling that if I went inside, I would never see the light of day again. To be safe, I wheeled around, got my phone out, and sprinted for the door. As I did, I heard the floor creak behind the kitchen door and it opening very slowly, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t look back. I just ran. When I got to the front door I swung it open and slammed the door behind me. I tried to run once I got outside, but the snow was adamantine. The snow went higher than my knees; I kept tripping. In the end, I just marched to my mailbox and collapsed on the ground.

Calling 9-1-1, the cold started to get to me. Talking with a southern accent, a man finally answered right away,”9-1-1 what’s your emergency?”

I was so relieved to hear him I exclaimed, “Thank god! I’m on 10589 Wintergreen boulevard sitting by my mailbox, please hurry, I think someone is in my house and trying to kill me!”

“Ma’am, please calm down. The police are on their way, I’ll stay on the line with you until they arrive.” said the man in the most bored voice possible.

Lackadaisical, the man asked me a few questions as we waited, and I told him about the crash and the door creaking open. “And did you see the person who opened the door?” the man asked.

“No, I was too busy running for my life!” I said irritated. “How long until the police will arrive?” I asked, trying to calm down.

“Any minute now Ma’am,” said the man reluctantly.

Strangely enough, a few seconds later, sirens could be heard in the distance. Immediately, I saw my neighbors walk to their windows in confusion, as if they had never heard sirens before in their lives. As the sirens came closer a single police car came around the corner, red and blue lights flashing. It parked next to my mailbox and a middle aged, average man stepped out with a stubble and a belly that made me think he was pregnant with a two ton beluga whale.

“Evening ma’am, my name is John Brand, what’s the emergency?” he said in a laidback tone that did not make me feel reassured that someone was keeping me safe.

“Hello John, I believe someone snuck into my house, knocked down one of my moving boxes, and is still in there,” I whispered to John Brand.

“Ok then, let me take a look inside and see if I can find anyone in the house that isn’t supposed to be there,” he wheezed back skeptically.

He marched to the door and quickly escaped behind it. In the meantime, I stayed outside, shivering and wet from the snow. It felt like hours until he finally stuck his head out and said, “All clear!” while motioning for me to come in. When I reached the door, I opened it slowly and stepped in carefully and deliberately.

“All things considered, Ma’am, I searched the entire house, up and down and there was no one in the house nor were there any moving boxes spilled on the ground.” John said, warily.

I was very disturbed by this information, “Oh, well are you certain? Did you check the kitchen?”

“Yes Ma’am, there especially.” John said irritated.

Finally, I thanked John for coming and apologized for the commotion I had made. He brushed it off and left without another word. I glanced at my watch, it was 3:00 PM.

Strange, these men don’t believe what I say about this intruder? Maybe I’m just exaggerating, no one can really be in the house, I must be hearing things. I headed for the kitchen again, feeling unsettled but safe. When I reached the kitchen door I carefully opened it but nothing was there. I unpacked the boxes, starting with the one I knew contained the knives just in case someone came running at me unexpectedly. I finished with the kitchen as the sun was setting and turned on the lights. As I headed up the stairs to my room, I looked down at my watch, it was only 5:45. Reaching my room was tiring. The excitement, stress, and tedious tasks of today were enough to make two grown men sleep for a week, much less let me stay awake for a few more hours. Hey, just unpack the bed and then you can go to sleep, just hold on a little longer.

As I reached my room I hear something on the ground floor of the house crash to the ground. I jumped, then ran into my room and locked the door. The room was a brilliant bright purple with my king sized bed next to a gargantuan window that spread the length of the bed on the left side of the room. On the far side was a balcony with tremendous sliding doors and splendid curtains. I took out my phone and was about to call 9-1-1, but cut myself short. Maybe I shouldn’t call the police since they already think I’m crazy… I know! I’ll call my stepmom and have her explain to me that it’s all in my head. I could picture her now, tanned skin, white hair and deep blue eyes with wrinkles around them, in her quiet demeanor, talking into the phone telling me that it was alright.

The sounds were all in my head and that I shouldn’t listen to them. Yeah, that sounds like a great idea! As I typed in the phone number and pressed enter, I heard the loud rippling sound of my stepmother’s ringtone just outside the door.



Search the Site: