Short Story 682 - The Locksmith's Whisper (Int)

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Short Story 682 - The Locksmith's Whisper (Intermediate)

Sarah lived in a small, remote cottage near the forest. She enjoyed the silence, but tonight, the silence felt heavy. A terrible storm had started just after dark. The rain lashed against the windows, and the wind sounded like a person screaming.

At eight o’clock, the power failed. The cottage fell into total darkness, except for the small, flickering light of her phone screen. Sarah tried to stay calm. She found a battery-powered lamp and placed it on the kitchen table.

She was just pouring a glass of water when she heard it.

Scratch. Click. Scrape.

The sound came from the back door. It was a very small, metallic sound, but in the storm’s loud chaos, it felt too close. It was not the wind or the rain. It sounded like someone was trying to tamper with the lock.

Sarah froze, holding her breath. She told herself it was perhaps a tree branch hitting the handle.

Click. Scrape. Click.

No. This was controlled. This was deliberate. Someone was picking the lock.

Her heart began to beat very fast, making a loud drumming sound in the quiet kitchen. She carefully took her phone and moved to the sitting room. She had to call the police, but she knew the remote signal was often poor in bad weather.

She went to the big front window and looked out into the pouring rain. She couldn’t see anything. The trees were too dense, and the darkness was complete.

Suddenly, the scraping sound stopped.

Silence.

Then, she heard it again. This time, the sound was coming from the front of the house, right at the door beside her. The intruder was inside her small front garden and was working on the main lock. They had failed at the back and moved to the easiest way in.

Sarah knew she had only a few seconds. She ran up the wooden stairs as quietly as she could. The stairs groaned once beneath her weight. She stopped, listening. Did they hear it?

The scraping continued below her, fast and confident now.

She reached the main bedroom and locked the door behind her. She pushed an old, heavy wooden dresser against the door as a barrier. It wouldn’t stop a determined person, but it would slow them down.

She dialled the emergency number, holding the phone close to her ear. Nothing but static. The storm had cut the line completely.

Downstairs, she heard a faint, heavy thud, the front door opening. They were inside.

Footsteps moved slowly, methodically, crossing the kitchen floor. They paused at the bottom of the stairs, then began to climb.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

They were coming. Sarah hid behind the dresser, clutching the phone like a weapon. The footsteps stopped right outside the bedroom door.

Then, the terrible, metallic sound began again. Click. Scrape. Click. But this time, it was louder, closer, and more personal. They were picking the final lock.

She heard a voice, a low whisper right against the wood. "It's all right, Sarah. I know you're alone."

The dresser began to shake as they pushed against it. The lock mechanism groaned.

Sarah braced herself. She was ready to fight....

Story written by Gemini AI.

Image created by 1min.ai.

To read ALL the stories/content in FULL, please go to www.steveuk.blog Thank you.

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