The Guest

At first it seemed as though nothing was out of place. Stepping into the apartment, Anna moved delicately across the soft carpet, her eyes scanning every surface with fearful anticipation. The paintings hung as they always had, her ornaments were still arranged as she had left them, and the telephone was still covered in a light film of dust. But there was something amiss. In her bones she could feel that someone had been here. Someone had entered her home and tampered with the elements of her life. As she began to calm down, she began to notice them. The window next to the armchair had been rubbed clean in the top left corner; no doubt the best angle from which to view the street below. The wire running from the desk lamp was no longer coiled down the back of the desk but exposed at the switch. Even more glaringly obvious, so obvious it seemed ridiculous she hadn’t noticed at once, the silver key which always hung from the clock was gone.

The door clicked behind her and brought her attention to the officer that accompanied her.


“I know someone was here, but why…” her voice trailed off as she stared into the clock. In her mind, she could see an unnatural hand plucking the key in a peculiar manner as though the thief had just learned how to use their hands.

“I see something… it has the mind key, Tony… Something knows who I am, but who?”

“They used to call me Bubba?” the key twirls on his finger until it slips and falls to the ground. Bubba grunts as he picks it back up. “Yes, my name is Bubba.”