The same sound came at the same time every day. Stephanie heard the wisplike sound coming from behind the door of her newly-owned condo on the picturesque and serene Cat Island in the Bahamas.
The crockery, clattering spoons and the shiny knives were scattered all over the granite counter. She was sorting the sparkling cutlery and arranging them neatly when she realised that it was unusual. She stopped what she was doing and concentrated on the sound. The sound slowly grew in intensity and soon she felt as if it was coming from somewhere too near. Terrified, she quickly grabbed a sharp knife and started walking in the direction of the sound.
Stephanie realised she had started to sweat and also felt weaker only to realise the hot pot of tea going cold over the stove and the marmalade on the crispy toast turning soggy. She took deep breaths and kept walking toward the unknown source of the sound. She calculated the approximate distance separating her from it and wished if it could miraculously stop even before she reaches there. She looked at the new lace curtains flying high as if waltzing on one of Mozart's symphonies in her richly decorated living room. The potpourri started to scatter by the brush of curtains and she could smell some lavender, some rose and some jasmine. She walked carefully not to crush them and continued walking. A strong gush of wind blasted the windows open, and she turned back to notice the potpourri brutally scattered all over her precious Turkish rug. She noticed the mark the heavy marble table had left on the rug and spoilt its perfect artistry. She shirked her shoulder and sighed, gripping the knife even more tightly in her moist hands.
The sound weakened a wee bit; enough to allow Stephanie to relax a little, but she kept her pace and moved nevertheless. The sound was still emanating, though slightly improved, as she could now begin to identify the sound. She thought may be it was a crying kitten or a puppy but then realised it was too strong to be that of a young one. Moving one step closer she realised that it may be from a water-pipe leaking somewhere due to overflow. The grip on the knife soothed with this idea and she bravely moved further noticing a cobweb next to the wall clock at the same. The cobweb was not there on the stunning crimson wall when she had vacuum-cleaned the house yesterday morning. She made a point in her mind to find a good quality insect repellent when she goes next to the department store. Stephanie had to make friends to know the nearby good stores and places she can buy some plants for the verandah from.
That must be it, Stephanie thought - someone watering the plants with the sprinklers. But why would someone turn on the sprinkler in middle of the afternoon; you either do it fresh early in the morning or in the pleasant late evening. With all these thoughts purling in her mind, she realised that now it was hardly a couple of feet's distance to the door from where she was and that her sweating was profuse.
Knife clenched in her clasp and rejecting the notion of sprinklers or kittens or puppies, she pensively reached out for the door knob with her quivering free hand. Five, four, three, two, one and she turned the door knob...
"Honey, I'm home!"
... and at this sound she lost the grip and the knife fell on the floor making a bristling sound while scratching its glass hand.
Stephanie hugged him tightly, still transfixed over the entire episode, and cried while wetting his crisp cotton shirt.
