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Rain lashed the O’Malley residence, wave after wave, so it seemed, of Mother Nature’s cold, unforgiving tears pounding on the windows and walls. Rain’s accomplice, the wind, wailed outside of the cozy walls of the O’Malley’s home, striking the walls, rattling the doors, shaking the windows.
A clap of thunder awoke the youngest boy in the house; he sat himself up drowsily, using his arms for support. Looking around his room with half closed eyes he slid out of bed, his teddy bear clutched in his left hand.
He schlepped himself out of his dark room, and out into the hallway; on his left and right side were separate hallways, one leading to the room of Francis, his brother of sixteen, the other, and longest of the two, led to his mother and father’s room. A tabby brushed against his leg, pushing his pajama leg up to his knees.
William, still half asleep, yawned and knelt to pet the cat “Nice kitty… what’re you doing up?” he cooed in his soft boyish voice. His arms went around the kitty, and he stood to walk the cat, named Kiwi, to its soft bed. After the deed was done he clumsily made his way down two flights of stairs and into the kitchen. Lighting tore across the stormy sky outside their house, Ireland was always stormy in the early spring, illuminating the walls and cutlery.
Above, the clouds swirled, thunder erupted into ear shattering explosions of sound, and lighting rent the horrible sky. It seemed as if gods were fighting in their kingdom above the swirling vortex of Galloway, Ireland’s skies; blows being struck as every streak of lighting tore across the sky, bellows of pain as the thunder boomed in the night air, tears of loved ones falling as the rain lashed the ground.
William paid no attention to the storm, it didn’t frighten him in the slightest, and he calmly walked over to the refrigerator and slowly pulled it open, grasping the cold metal handle. It swung open surprisingly fast, too fast for William, who staggered back a few feet. Before him were rows and rows of food and various drinks, such as milk, water, some Coca-Cola, and a six pack of Guinness (for his father).
Suddenly a pot slid from the counter, to the right of the sink, and clattered to the ground with an annoyingly loud clang. William whipped around, his hair flying with him, the bear falling out of his soft hand, to look for the source of the clanging. When he saw the pot lying on the floor he let out a great sigh and picked up his bear.



To him, the sound was nothing but a nightly happening, but to us, it was the first sign of doom. William turned back to the fridge and grabbed the carton of milk, he then walked almost silently over to the counter, got out a glass, and poured some of the milk into the glass. He was halfway through finishing it when a violent gust of wind shook the entire house, causing the chair William was perched upon, and the glass he was holding to shake.
A small bit of milk splashed out onto the marble countertop, William groaned quietly. He slowly pushed himself off his stool, and got a wash-clothe to clean up his little mess. Once he was done, he set the wash-clothe down and looked behind him at the large window.
He screamed.
A man was staring in at him, a black hood over his head that concealed his facial features. Except his nose, which stuck out of the shadow that was his face, it was a large nose, one that resembled which would’ve been a “Roman nose.” His hands were cupped around his line of vision, while his eyes gleamed in the lightning.
William screamed again when the man turned away and swiftly walked out of view, intending to go around the house, as William thought. Instinctively William shouted “MAMA!”
There was no answer. He shouted again “FRANCIS!” Again, no answer; William began to panic; the man was going to get into the house and… Well, William never got that far in his thoughts, for then the man crept up behind him and grabbed him by the stomach.
When William tried to scream again, the man slapped a hand to his mouth, muffling the would-be shriek of terror. His hand was cold and clammy, and was a pale white. William started to do what any young child would do, he began to thrash about, kicking wildly, trying to hit every part of the man he could.
William’s slippered foot connected with the man’s crotch, and the man let out an involuntary groan of pain; but his grip did not slacken in the slightest, nay, he began to squeeze the air out of William, his left arm pushing painfully on William’s diaphragm.
William let out a gasp, and the passed out.