Jasmine blindly grabbed for her water bottle and instead, spilled a book onto the floor. Bending over to snatch it, she thought she glanced a pair of legs pass the wide blind-less window, that only half revealed the moonlight in that large degree of darkness. Assuming the movement was a mixture of the glare from the lights and her previous night with a bag of chips and three horror flicks, Jasmine went back to her work.
Four deafening knocks came from the wooden door and boomed through the house. Jasmine froze and gradually slid her eyes to the blind-less window. Expecting another sudden knock, she waited and debated what to do. The peephole was broken, therefore, totally useless. She could crawl to the window and look to her right, where she would clearly see whoever was waiting at the door – but the thought of actually seeing whoever it was became more chilling than the knock itself.
But, only one session of knocks had come and whoever was out there, paused for a seemingly endless moment. From her desk, Jasmine kept her eyes glued to the window and almost by her will, the two legs slowly appeared in view of the window. Jasmine half-expected whoever it was to look in, but after smaller pause, the legs pressed on out of the gate and into the driveway. Now she had to see who it was to rest her disquiet. She pressed her ghost-pale face to the dark, cold window and squinted. It was a man. An older-looking man in what appeared to be a flannel shirt and jeans. His back was turned towards her and he wore a hat – she couldn’t determine what color it was. The man paused by her car in the driveway and suddenly turned a 180 to face her. Jasmine stumbled back and tripped over her sewing machine. There was a moment of stiff fear, the old man stood still like a deer before headlights. He seemed to understand that Jasmine was in a vulnerable position and so he finally made his attack. The man slid something into his pocket and sped towards the window.