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Short Story 682 – The Locksmith’s Whisper (Int)

Sarah lived in a small, remote cottage near the forest. She enjoyed the silence, but tonight, the silence felt heavy. A terrible storm had started just after dark. The rain lashed against the windows, and the wind sounded like a person screaming.

At eight o’clock, the power failed. The cottage fell into total darkness, except for the small, flickering light of her phone screen. Sarah tried to stay calm. She found a battery-powered lamp and placed it on the kitchen table.

She was just pouring a glass of water when she heard it.

Scratch. Click. Scrape.

The sound came from the back door. It was a very small, metallic sound, but in the storm’s loud chaos, it felt too close. It was not the wind or the rain. It sounded like someone was trying to tamper with the lock.

Sarah froze, holding her breath. She told herself it was perhaps a tree branch hitting the handle.

Click. Scrape. Click.

No. This was controlled. This was deliberate. Someone was picking the lock.

Her heart began to beat very fast, making a loud drumming sound in the quiet kitchen. She carefully took her phone and moved to the sitting room. She had to call the police, but she knew the remote signal was often poor in bad weather.

She went to the big front window and looked out into the pouring rain. She couldn’t see anything. The trees were too dense, and the darkness was complete.

Suddenly, the scraping sound stopped.

Silence.

Then, she heard it again. This time, the sound was coming from the front of the house, right at the door beside her. The intruder was inside her small front garden and was working on the main lock. They had failed at the back and moved to the easiest way in.

Sarah knew she had only a few seconds. She ran up the wooden stairs as quietly as she could. The stairs groaned once beneath her weight. She stopped, listening. Did they hear it?

The scraping continued below her, fast and confident now.

She reached the main bedroom and locked the door behind her. She pushed an old, heavy wooden dresser against the door as a barrier. It wouldn’t stop a determined person, but it would slow them down.

She dialled the emergency number, holding the phone close to her ear. Nothing but static. The storm had cut the line completely.

Downstairs, she heard a faint, heavy thud, the front door opening. They were inside.

Footsteps moved slowly, methodically, crossing the kitchen floor. They paused at the bottom of the stairs, then began to climb.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

They were coming. Sarah hid behind the dresser, clutching the phone like a weapon. The footsteps stopped right outside the bedroom door.

Then, the terrible, metallic sound began again. Click. Scrape. Click. But this time, it was louder, closer, and more personal. They were picking the final lock.

She heard a voice, a low whisper right against the wood. “It’s all right, Sarah. I know you’re alone.”

The dresser began to shake as they pushed against it. The lock mechanism groaned.

Sarah braced herself. She was ready to fight.

Just as the door began to splinter, a very loud, sharp noise cut through the house: the phone’s ringtone. It was her neighbour, checking on her because of the power cut. The ringer was so loud it was deafening.

The pushing on the door stopped immediately. The scraping sound vanished. The footsteps quickly retreated, running back down the stairs and out the front door into the storm.

Sarah didn’t move for ten minutes. The phone had stopped ringing. When she finally peered around the dresser, the lock was ruined, but the door was still closed.

The noise had saved her. Not the police, but the unexpected sound of a friend calling. She looked at the destroyed lock.

The next day, the police found footprints in the mud, leading away from the cottage and into the deep forest. The stranger was gone, but the front door lock was taken as evidence. The police explained that the lock had been carefully replaced with an older, weaker one, probably days ago. The intruder hadn’t been picking her lock; they had been finishing the job on one they had already installed, a lock designed to fail exactly when they needed it to.


Vocabulary Notes

Remote (adjective)
Definition: Far away from other cities, towns, or people; isolated.
Example: “Sarah lived in a small, remote cottage near the forest.”
Similar Words (Synonyms):
Isolated: completely separate from others.
Secluded: hidden away from view; private.
Distant: far off in space or time.

Lash (verb)
Definition: To hit something hard and violently. (Often used for wind, rain, or waves hitting a surface.)
Example: “The rain lashed against the windows, and the wind sounded like a person screaming.”
Similar Words (Synonyms):
Beat: to hit repeatedly.
Pound: to hit or strike something heavily and repeatedly.
Slam: to shut or hit against something forcefully.

Tamper (verb)
Definition: To interfere with something in order to cause damage or make unauthorized changes, often secretly.
Example: “It sounded like someone was trying to tamper with the lock.”
Similar Words (Synonyms):
Meddle: to interfere in something that is not one’s concern.
Fiddle (informal): to try to adjust or repair something in a casual or careless way.
Tinker: to attempt to repair or improve something in a casual or desultory way.

Deliberate (adjective)
Definition: Done consciously and intentionally; carefully considered or planned.
Example: “No. This was controlled. This was deliberate.”
Similar Words (Synonyms):
Intentional: done on purpose.
Planned: decided beforehand.
Calculated: done with full awareness of the likely consequences.

Splinter (verb)
Definition: To break into small, sharp fragments, usually referring to wood or glass. (The noun form refers to the fragment itself.)
Example: “Just as the door began to splinter, a very loud, sharp noise cut through the house…”
Similar Words (Synonyms):
Fracture: to break or cause to break (usually used for bones or hard objects).
Shatter: to break suddenly and violently into many small pieces (often used for glass).
Rend: to tear something into two or more pieces (often used formally for cloth or paper).

Story written by Gemini AI.

Image created by 1min.ai.

CC Music: Drifting at 432 Hz – Unicorn Heads.

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