Backlit Silhouette

            Randy awoke with a stir and sat up, perfectly alert, in his bed. Had he heard something on the guest bedroom down the hallway? He sat very still, and continued to listen. It wouldn’t be the first time he had thought he heard something in this house. It was a very old house, and he had just moved into it a few weeks ago. He still wasn’t used to all of the noises it made; the random creaks and squeaks when there was no one around, the pitter-patter of raccoons in the attic, and whatever other sounds a house seems to make as it stands on its plot of land, protecting those inside from those outside. Still, that noise didn’t sound like a house noise.

            He listened more intently, wishing there was someone else in the house to ask for a second opinion, but he lived alone. Some people questioned why he bought a 2 story house for himself, but Randy had the money, and he liked having family and friends over. He provided the gathering place as long as everyone else helped get party goodies. A squeak emanated from the floor below him, as the house seemed to apologize for getting him up at this time of night. He’d get used to this place yet. The homey feel of the house had dragged him into it, and he wasn’t about to let it go. Randy shrugged, and laid back down with a sigh. He thought about checking the clock to see what time it was, thought better of it, and rolled over to get some more sleep.

            As he was pulling his blanket back over himself, he heard the TV turn on in the guest bedroom down the hallway. It wasn’t turned on to a channel he received, and only sent sounds of static floating down the hallway, in that bone tingling way that only static noise can really achieve. “What the fuck?” Randy said to no one in particular, as he got out of bed and meandered into the hallway. He didn’t turn the hallway light on; the door to the guest bedroom was wide open, and the TV in it emitted enough light for him to see fairly well. An ominous feeling crept up his spine as he quietly came up to the guest bedroom. Who could possibly do that? Randy thought to himself, I locked the doors before I went to bed, I know I did. He summoned up his courage, and threw himself into the room, ready to take on whatever had caused his TV to spew static into his house, getting him out of bed. He looked around the room, and found nothing. There was the TV, on a static channel, and a futon, exactly as he had left it. Nothing was out of place. He looked at the window to see if it might be open, and was shocked to see a backlit silhouette of a person in the window. Randy could only make out make out a pair of golden eyes that seemed to glow with their own light. The silhouette stood still, glaring at him, and he felt as if it was staring through his soul. How is this possible? He has to be floating! His eyes, what are his eyes? Randy tried to comprehend that last thought as the window between him and the silhouette violently shattered, and he was dragged outside, through the air. The last thing he knew was the gold in those eyes.