This Little Piggie

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The sound wasn’t so much a knocking on the door as it was a pounding. Fists came down against the wooden door so hard she thought it might be ripped from its very hinges.

She was curled up in the corner of the room, huddled up with her knees clutched to her chest. Her breathing was labored, racked with sobs, and her face was stained with tears. Her vision blurred, and all she could hear was the banging on the door.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The banging was accompanied by a growling. It was a deep, throaty growl, and the volume spoke to the size of the beast that must have been producing it. A clap of thunder sounded from outside and, as the accompanying bolt of lightning flashed, the light from outside cast a shadow through the gap beneath the door. It was only momentary, but she could see the two shadowed marks of the feet outside, and she finally could hold it in no longer.

She let out a scream.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The sound that left her lips - this bloodcurdling shriek of a helpless woman overcome with fear - seemed to be all that was needed to stoke the ire of the beast on the other side. The pounding of the door built in intensity, becoming so forceful and loud that the entire doorframe was quaking – no, not just the doorframe, but the entire house. She could feel the vibrations in the wooden floor beneath her, feel the pounding against her back as it was pressed up to the wall. She trembled and sobbed, for there was nothing more she could do.

BANG!

The crashing and splintering of wood filled her ears as the door caved, crumbling beneath the force of the would-be intruder’s impact. She lifted her hands and covered her ears, a wail leaving her lips. This was the end.

She could barely bring herself to lift her gaze, but she managed to peek in the direction of the door. In the darkness, the figure was nothing more but a silhouette, but it was a silhouette straight from the realm of horror. It was massive and grotesque, so twisted and warped that she wondered what it could even be. A man? A wolf? It had to hunch itself to pass through the doorway, and when it straightened up, it towered almost to the rafters.

There was a glint of gold as it made eye contact with her. Again, she screamed. If she could have backed up any further, she would have. She scrambled to try to move away, but there was nowhere she could go. She was already in the corner of the room, staring down this… this thing. There was a glint of ruby from where its mouth ought to be, and the stench of blood suddenly filled her nostrils.

The beast wasn’t hungry. It had already eaten. It was coming after her all for the fun of it – and, as far as she was concerned, that made the situation all the much worse.

It dropped it all fours. It was ready to pounce. And she… she was helpless.

Melanie!

When she opened her eyes again, the darkness of the house was gone. The sounds of the storm had faded. The reeking aroma of fresh blood no longer haunted her. Instead of feeling the hard wooden floor beneath her, she felt the softness of her bed.

She was home.

She turned her gaze to the side, and her husband was standing there with a wide smile on his face. “You’re awake!” he said. “I was starting to get worried. You were tossing and turning – sounded like you were having a nightmare.”

“Do you know where my laptop is?”

Melanie’s voice shook as she spoke. Instead of producing her laptop, though, her husband picked up a white porcelain mug from the nightstand. Tendrils of steam rose up from within the mug, and he held it towards her.

“I brought you some coffee. Figured you could use a bit of a pick-me-up,” he said. “I know you don’t really do mornings, but we’ve got to get going soon if we’re going to make it to your signing on time.”

“My laptop?”

“I’m sure it’s at your desk,” her husband said, and he sat down on the bedside. “There’s a really great article about you in the paper! I saw it this morning while I was having my breakfast. You can read it while we’re on the way, if you’d like. It’s fantastic – they compare you to Stephen King! They seem to think that your work-“

“Babe!”

“Yes?”

“Where is my laptop?”

Her husband frowned as she repeated her request for the third time. “I told you, I think it’s at your desk. Why?” he asked her.

She threw back the cotton blankets and rose to her feet, leaving the steaming coffee mug untouched on the nightstand and walking to her desk. Sure enough, there was her laptop, sleek and silver and seeming to call out her name. As she sat down and lifted open the lid of her computer, her husband walked over and put a gentle hand down on her shoulder.

“Babe, we really don’t have time for this,” he said to her. “We need to leave in like… twenty minutes. That’s just enough time for a shower, but you have to get ready now.”

“I can’t,” she said. Her finger found the round little power button and she gave it a push. The screen of her computer flashed white and the sounds of little mechanisms within began to whir to life.

“Why not?”

Melanie turned, lifting her gaze towards her husband. She wished he understood. She wished anyone understood, but she knew that if she told anybody the truth, they would think she was crazy. She’d be locked away in a mental hospital. The only way she could speak her truth was in writing.

“If I don’t start now, I might lose it,” Melanie said.

“Lose what?”

Melanie hesitated a moment, and then she let a smile cross her lips, even though her mind was screaming and twisting over upon itself from within.

“I’ve had the most wonderful idea for an adaptation of the Three Little Pigs.”