A Stormy Night
Dark and stormy night
It was a dark and stormy night when she came to find me. I was sitting at my work desk, writing my daily report of the day's work when my ears caught a soft knocking at the front door, timid but distinct against the fury of the tempest.
Who could it possibly be at this hour and in this kind of night, I mused as I pushed back my chair irritably to answer the door. As I was about to slip back the latch, a small, seldom heard voice in the back of my head, which only spoke in times of danger, cautioned me to be careful. My hand hovered over the latch hesitantly. Could the stranger on the other side be a dangerous person? Even in the middle of a night like this, the very notion of a dangerous person wanting to take the trouble to harm a plain Jane like me seemed absurd. I peered out through the glass peephole in the centre of the door, but it was so dark outside that all I could see was a dark silhouette.
"Who's there?" I called out.
"Maze, its me." A woman's voice rang out on the other side, a voice so old and familiar that it was unmistakable even in the thundering rain.
All thoughts of burglars and stalkers fled from my mind as I slipped back the last latch and flung open the door. There she stood, a lone and forlorn figure on the doorstep. The torrential rain had drenched her from head to toe, the rivulets of rainwater gleaming in the dim light of the hallway down her back and formed a puddle at her feet. She had changed much, yet I could still recognize her as the dear friend from my school years. Her business suit was wet and hung limply from her tall frame, but it was obviously of an expensive cut. She held a small briefcase tightly in one hand. Even in my state of semi-shock, I could see that she was unusually nervous, for she gripped the handle so tightly I could see her knuckles shining white in the dim light. Her eyes, those fiery, piercing eyes which always seemed to dance with laughter during our school days were not dancing now
It was a dark and stormy night when she came to find me. I was sitting at my work desk, writing my daily report of the day's work when my ears caught a soft knocking at the front door, timid but distinct against the fury of the tempest.
Who could it possibly be at this hour and in this kind of night, I mused as I pushed back my chair irritably to answer the door. As I was about to slip back the latch, a small, seldom heard voice in the back of my head, which only spoke in times of danger, cautioned me to be careful. My hand hovered over the latch hesitantly. Could the stranger on the other side be a dangerous person? Even in the middle of a night like this, the very notion of a dangerous person wanting to take the trouble to harm a plain Jane like me seemed absurd. I peered out through the glass peephole in the centre of the door, but it was so dark outside that all I could see was a dark silhouette.
"Who's there?" I called out.
"Maze, its me." A woman's voice rang out on the other side, a voice so old and familiar that it was unmistakable even in the thundering rain.
All thoughts of burglars and stalkers fled from my mind as I slipped back the last latch and flung open the door. There she stood, a lone and forlorn figure on the doorstep. The torrential rain had drenched her from head to toe, the rivulets of rainwater gleaming in the dim light of the hallway down her back and formed a puddle at her feet. She had changed much, yet I could still recognize her as the dear friend from my school years. Her business suit was wet and hung limply from her tall frame, but it was obviously of an expensive cut. She held a small briefcase tightly in one hand. Even in my state of semi-shock, I could see that she was unusually nervous, for she gripped the handle so tightly I could see her knuckles shining white in the dim light. Her eyes, those fiery, piercing eyes which always seemed to dance with laughter during our school days were not dancing now