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Storyteller's Cabin |
So Kristin got back in her car, made a trip to the health food store, then returned home. As she walked through the door, she could hear the phone ringing in her bedroom. Loaded down with shopping bags, she decided to let her voice-mail catch the call. But no sooner had the phone stopped ringing then it started ringing again. Thinking it may be an emergency - or perhaps an annoying telemarketer who needed to be yelled at - Kristin dropped her bags and ran to the phone, catching it on its last ring.
"Hello?" she breathlessly answered.
She was surprised to find her veterinarian on the other end. "Kristin, we have some results on Bishop. We need you to come back to the office."
"Okay. I'll be there in an hour or so..."
"...No, Kristin," interrupted the vet in a barely controlled voice. "We need you to come down now."
Kristin was taken aback by the sound of his voice. She could hear the tension lurking behind his words. There was something he wasn't telling her.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "Is Bishop okay?"
"We'll talk about that when you get here," answered the vet, his voice growing louder and more agitated. "Just get in the car now."
"Why can't you tell me over the phone?" asked Kristin.
The vet suddenly blurted out, "Are you in the house alone?"
A chill ran through Kristin's blood. She slowly sat on her bed and replied, "Yes. Why?"
She could hear the vet taking a deep breath on the other end of the phone. Then, barely able to contain the tremor in his throat, he said in a hushed voice, "Listen to me carefully. We found out why Bishop was coughing."
It was then that Kristin noticed her bedroom window. A hole had been punched through the glass, and it was unlocked.
"Kristin, are you there?"
"Yes," Kristin answered, her voice starting to shake. She then noticed drops of blood on her carpet. They stretched across the room and underneath her closet door.
"I don't know how to tell you this, but what we found in your dog's throat were fingers. Human fingers."
As the vet spoke, Kristin sat frozen as she watched the closet door slowly creak open on its rusted hinges.
"Did you hear what I said? He bit the fingers off somebody's hand!"
Kristin still didn't answer. In the darkness of the closet, she swore she could see the hand of a large man, blood dripping from where his fingers had been gnawed off. And on his arm was the orange sleeve of a prison uniform.
"There's somebody here," Kristin whispered into the phone.
"Get out of the house, Kristin! For God's sake, GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!!!!!!!"
The phone line went dead.
Learn more about where this story came from in our Cultural Background section.
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