Last week, I got caught in the midst of a game on Facebook. I guess you could call it a form of tag. I responded to a friend's post and got a message back from her saying that the post was part of a game. Since I responded, I was supposed to choose from a list of posts she sent me and then send the list to any friends who responded to my post.
I chose to post that a raccoon had gotten into my bedroom. I had a few expressions of concern from friends and a few who told me they knew something was up. During the back and forth, however, I was reminded of the time when I was home alone as a kid and a squirrel got into our basement.
Sometimes there was a gap between the time I got home from school and my Mom got home from work. This was well before the term "latchkey kid" was coined. I was old enough to avoid burning the house down, and I had neighbors on which to call if I needed help. Well, one day I did.
The newspaper usually got delivered shortly after I got home, and I would read it. Sports section first, of course. I would sit in my Dad's recliner, which was near a vent for the furnace.
I was reading and thought I heard a noise. It was one of those noises that disappears when you try to listen for it and returns when you have decided that you didn't really hear anything. A few minutes later, I heard a clang and it sounded like something had fallen in the basement.
I headed out the side door to go get our neighbor, Charlie. Once, I was outside, I stopped. Charlie, who was in his 80's, was a wonderful man; but he also liked to tease people. I thought if I went and got him and there was a simple explanation for the noise, he might tease me about it in the future.
A basement window was nearby. I squatted down to look in and came face-to-face with a squirrel sitting on the window ledge. We looked each other right in the eyes. I don't know what the squirrel did at that moment, but I ran and got Charlie. He took one of the windows off; and, within minutes, the squirrel ran out.
We figured that the squirrel had been running around the perimeter of the basement, trying to find a way out. The first noises I heard were screws and nails falling from my Dad's work bench. A metal serving tray made the clang that sent me into action.
Later that year, I had to write a composition in school. The story of the squirrel fit the assignment perfectly.
Have you written a story that was prompted by a noise? What about one triggered by being home alone?
Follow me on Twitter or Click the Join this Site link to follow this blog.
Thanks to Kasie Whitener for this week's Wordsmith Studio Prompt-Rivals. What does the word rivals mean to you? Post a link in the comments to. Your thoughts about rivals. Click the Join This Site link to follow this blog.