My New House
By: Puneet Kumar
I watched the coffee pot finish gurgling, my only unpacked coffee cup ready and waiting on the counter next to it. Last night was my first in my brand new home – a bit of a fixer- upper, I would readily admit, but I loved it. Good bones. Plus, the realtor seemed eager to sell, so they accepted my lowball offer within hours.
The moment my coffee had been poured; the front door clicked. What on earth? I thought I'd locked it before bed last night.
I sidestepped so I could see the front of the house.
The front door had been pushed open by the wind, now allowing dead leaves to scuttle across the hardwood floors in the entryway. Several let them in, like unwanted pets, before I managed to shut it again.
Why hadn't the Realtor told me about that little design flaw? My safety was at stake here! I pulled my phone from my back pocket, ready to chew him out for it, and started to call.
It was still ringing when I noticed the footprints. Reddish black, staining the carpet as they wandered through the living room. Had someone been walking in oil before entering the wrong room?
Was it going to stain? I stepped towards it, touching the goo with the phone still at my ear.
Not oil.
Blood
My breath caught in my throat. I almost didn't want to investigate, but the footprints were headed into the house, not out.
Someone was in my house. Someone covered in blood.
-