When I come home, this is the drill and everyone in my family knows it. Heck, even the cat and the dog know it.
I enter through the front gate noisily. Sometimes I’d see Adam but more often than not I don’t. He’s off gallivanting somewhere I don’t know. As long as he keeps himself safe and he comes home each night, I’m okay with that. See? I don’t even try to lock him inside the house. We have an understanding. It’s called mutual cohabitation.
When I near our front door, I’d call out to anyone to open the door. We don’t carry around keys to the house. We either call out or sneak through the back. Keys were never an option. We got used to it. Then someone will open the front gate. That someone is usually my dad — you won’t believe how many times I came home tipsy just to find my dad open the front door and ask if I’m drunk. I know better than to lie, so I tell him yeah but I didn’t drink much.
Tonight, when I came home, I expected pretty much the same routine. Except that my brother had a tale to tell…
He said that someone called out earlier that night. Thinking it was me, he called back and told the voice to wait. So he proceeded to the front door, opened it and… no one was there. What greeted him was the cool night air and the stillness of the dark. His eyes roamed around to make sure I was somewhere out there and that I wasn’t going to jump out from the shadows and screech “Boo!” When a few seconds had collapsed and I did not appear, that was when he felt goosebumps dot his body.
No one was there.
He quickly went back inside the house, locked the front door and hurried back to the room.
You could just imagine his fright when the second time someone called out for the front door to be opened. But that second time was really me. I even saw Adam and greeted him and petted him as I waited for the front door to be opened.
Who was it my brother heard earlier, calling out for the door to be opened? The voice even answered him. What was it?
image source: infinittum