Synopsis: A man who wakes in the middle of the night finds three police officers outside.



[A man walks in stumbling to a bed. Falls face first into the cushions.]


Cracking his eyes open, he looks at the clock. A glance at the bright light shows 2:00am. Ugh. It’s too cold. This house is ancient. It doesn’t have much insulation. With a comforter fit only for a king, he rolls away from his clock. Tucking in snugly, he brings his eyes to a halt and brain to a rest. His head hits the pillow. Back to dreamland. With fatigued muscles, he slowly fades. His heartbeat slows. Deeper breaths begin. The room is quiet. He feels safe again. Beginning the countdown. One hundred. Ninety-nine. Ninety-eight. Ninety-…but through his eyelids, he random colors pulsate. Vibrant. Dull. Vibrant. 


He opens his eyes, again. Blue and red lights flash on the ceiling and wall. It is something he shouldn’t ignore. Unwrapping himself from the luxuries of his California King size bed, he rolls out of bed. His wrist hurts from the day before and winces when he gets up. A sharp pain hits him. His bare feet hit the wooden floor: it feels like he stepped on to a sheet of ice. Chills up his spine, he moves for the slippers next to the doorway. Walking to the front of the house – wrapped in blanket – he moves by memory; it was too dark to see objects in front of him. His eyes haven’t adjusted yet. One step here. Two to the left. No. Right. Four straight ahead and…one to the right. Reaching the front door, he hears a squeak that isn’t from him. The house again.


He opens the door and cold wind rushes in. A jerk reaction, he slams the door, loudly. But his curiosity continues. He drags his feet to the closet and rummages through the clutter to find a parka and scarf. But boots, where are the boots? Turning around, he sees they’re next to the back door. Ah. Yes. Gliding over, he grabs the boots and prepares to go outside. He opens the front door again. Bearable. A blanket of white covers the lawn with two pairs of footprints coming towards the house, and one leaving. Moonlight illuminates the block. He peers around the corner of his house and sees three state trooper police cars parked outside. He walks to the side yard; his skin tightens from the cold. Blood comes rushing back to his body and extremities stiffen. Movement becomes tough, again. His hands go to opposite shoulders to try and keep warm. Every other step involves breathing into his hands for more warmth. He sees sets of footprints leading to the backyard and rushes back inside for safety. 


A warm glass of milk to calm the nerves. He stumbles towards the kitchen. He needs the light to see where he’s going now. No use in trying to remember in this darkness. Reaching for the milk, he pours it into a cup and turns on the microwave. A second creak came from around the corner of the other hallway. Thinking nothing of it, he walks back towards the backyard to see what was happening. The room becomes cold. There must have been a draft in the room tonight. The milk is ready. He sees three officers are looking around the yard and checking for something. For what, he didn’t know. He doesn’t want to anymore. He just missed his bed. Closing the microwave door, he takes a sip.


He begins to ask questions to himself. What’s wrong? Why would the officers be outside in the backyard? What happened? Thoughts flash through his mind. A loud crash of broken glass and a door swings open hitting the wall. He runs to the sanctity of his bed, dropping the cup and spilling his drink. Officers yell for him to stop. He closes the door and prays to remain unseen. Steps on that creaky floor get louder as they get closer. His heart races with each beat becoming indistinguishable from the previous. A knock on his door asks if he’s all right. He is, but he’s unstable. A voice yells from the other side of the house, “Clear over here.” The door swings open and only one of the officers rushes in.


“You’re under arrest for trespassing and breaking and entering.”


The officer grabs at his wrists and turns him around. Pain shoots through his veins. Words start to blend into inaudible sounds.


“You have the righttoremainsilent…”


His gaze becomes confused as he searches for answers. Walking towards the back of the cop car, he looks back to see a family of four on looking from the front door of his house.