All Hail the Shifter King
Title: Behind You
Word Count: 404
She was on the third page of her report when the power went out again, dropping her into an abrupt darkness. Enough time had passed since the last outage that the sun had set, and the sudden absence of light save the glow of her laptop was startling proof of the hours that had slipped away while she slaved over her paperwork. Sighing, she picked up her cell phone and used the screen as a flashlight, moving from her room to the small living area of the suite. Her legs ached from sitting in one position for so long, and her shoulders and neck practically creaked as she rolled her joints, trying to loosen her tired muscles. As she approached the kitchen for a bottle of water her stomach growled pitifully - how long had it been since she’d eaten? Six hours? Seven? She rolled her eyes at her own forgetfulness and dug in the fridge for something to snack on, letting out a small whoop of victory when she discovered the paper-wrapped remains of Gavin’s sandwich from lunch. Finder’s keepers! she thought with a grin, and tucked a cold bottle of water under her arm before kicking the door shut and heading back toward the bedroom.
She’d made it just a handful of paces when a brisk, unsettling chill ran down her spine, and she stopped just a few feet from her bedroom door to twist and look behind her at the dark kitchen. Had she heard something? Holding up her cell phone, she skimmed the faint light across the room, doing little more than illuminating the cramped island and Gavin’s impressive pyramid of empty bottles from the minibar. Still, her skin crawled and the hairs stood on the back of her neck. Taking a few hesitant steps forward, she peered around the island for an intruder, chiding herself all the while but still grateful when she saw nothing there.
“You’re being hysterical,” she muttered, and stomped back toward the bedroom. Still, she paused at the doorway when just the slightest breeze caressed the back of her neck and shoulders, the slow, lazy movement of air swirling in the wake of someone’s passing. This time she didn’t bother to turn and look - darting into the room, she kicked the door shut with enough force to rattle the gaudy paintings on the wall, and leaned against it with her heart hammering in her chest.
Word Count: 404
She was on the third page of her report when the power went out again, dropping her into an abrupt darkness. Enough time had passed since the last outage that the sun had set, and the sudden absence of light save the glow of her laptop was startling proof of the hours that had slipped away while she slaved over her paperwork. Sighing, she picked up her cell phone and used the screen as a flashlight, moving from her room to the small living area of the suite. Her legs ached from sitting in one position for so long, and her shoulders and neck practically creaked as she rolled her joints, trying to loosen her tired muscles. As she approached the kitchen for a bottle of water her stomach growled pitifully - how long had it been since she’d eaten? Six hours? Seven? She rolled her eyes at her own forgetfulness and dug in the fridge for something to snack on, letting out a small whoop of victory when she discovered the paper-wrapped remains of Gavin’s sandwich from lunch. Finder’s keepers! she thought with a grin, and tucked a cold bottle of water under her arm before kicking the door shut and heading back toward the bedroom.
She’d made it just a handful of paces when a brisk, unsettling chill ran down her spine, and she stopped just a few feet from her bedroom door to twist and look behind her at the dark kitchen. Had she heard something? Holding up her cell phone, she skimmed the faint light across the room, doing little more than illuminating the cramped island and Gavin’s impressive pyramid of empty bottles from the minibar. Still, her skin crawled and the hairs stood on the back of her neck. Taking a few hesitant steps forward, she peered around the island for an intruder, chiding herself all the while but still grateful when she saw nothing there.
“You’re being hysterical,” she muttered, and stomped back toward the bedroom. Still, she paused at the doorway when just the slightest breeze caressed the back of her neck and shoulders, the slow, lazy movement of air swirling in the wake of someone’s passing. This time she didn’t bother to turn and look - darting into the room, she kicked the door shut with enough force to rattle the gaudy paintings on the wall, and leaned against it with her heart hammering in her chest.