The Break-in

There’s nothing scarier than, when late at night, a knock on your front door breaks the silence of your empty house—while you’re a 10-year-old boy—and you’re home alone. “Thud! Thud! Thud!” the door banged vigorously as it was bombarded by someone—or something. Shivers rushed down my spine as I lay on my bed motionless, unable to move a single muscle, as if I had just been completely paralysed. My heart felt as if it had stopped beating, although thoughts were still processing in my mind so I wasn’t dead.

“All clear”, I faintly hear straining to hear the words muttered from my front doorstep. As millions of thoughts boil and burst in my mind, I gather up the bits of my brain that have fallen onto the floor. I realise this can only be one situation. A break-in. My body switches back on and I can once again feel my body moving normally—well close to normal I guess as I feel my joints shaking as my frozen heart starts to fill up with the emotions of fear and panic.

Footsteps echo outside as the sound of shoes landing on concrete can be defined clearly in the silent and subtle night. The killers have jumped the fence. Time is diminishing so I have to think quickly. I bolt out of my room quicker than you can blink and fly down the stairs faster than an eagle swoops. I find my phone laying on the dining table. Panicked, I grab it and while on the move, I start dialling 000 as I make my way towards the front of the house where I can escape through the front door. Dad usually gets home around this time and mum should be back from the shops anytime soon. By then though, I may no longer be breathing. The phone starts to ring as my call reaches its target. Looking at the alarm panel near the front door, it says “armed”, so no doors or windows have been open yet. Finally, after what felt like countless minutes, someone picks up the phone:

“Hello this is the emergency department. What’s—”

“There’s people outside my house trying to break in and they’re probably going to kill me! My address is 33 Turner St, Merrylands”, I blurt out in a flourish of panic, cutting the nice-sounding lady off.

“Oh okay the police will be on their way. If you can, make your way out of the house through the nearest exit possible so you’re safe”, she said in a sort of rehearsed way as if she had said these lines a hundred times. I look back at the alarm panel, only to see that it’s blank. My eyes widen in utter shock. I must have been there staring blankly into the blank panel for minutes before I realised I had forgotten about the phone. I quickly chime in “thankyou”, unsure if the lady was even there anymore, and end the call. I twist the handle of the front door in attempt to exit through the gateway of life where I may have a chance of surviving, but it doesn’t open! Locked. “Craaackkkkk!” A window from the back of the house rings out as shatters, most probably into a million shards of glass. I freeze under pressure, struggling to think clearly. Keys; I need keys so I can escape this mess. The cogs inside me start turning again and I dash into the kitchen to find some keys. “Crinkle! Crunch!” the killers most probably treading onto the smashed glass. I’ve probably got seconds to escape. I open the kitchen cupboard rapidly scanning for keys.

“Who’s there?!” a shout cries out from my parents room. They’re inside. I ruffle around through papers with my hands desperately hoping to find the house keys. Bingo. I snatch them out of the cupboard, leave the door open, and sprint for dear life. Dangling in my hands the jingle of many keys can be heard. Did the killers hear? No time to turn around. I reach the door, and try to sort through the keys in a rain of muddles. With sweat dripping off my forehead, hands shaking like a baby’s rattle, mind spinning out, I finally find the right key.

“He’s getting away!” one shouted in alarm.

“Get him” the other commanded in frustration. “Shoot him if you have to!”

Now my heart skipped a beat as I scramble to slot the key in. Open. I dart out and slam the door shut with a bang.

Seconds later, the door opens after me. I now see the two killers look like two men dressed in black to cover up. The sound of sirens enter the street as 3 police cars rush up to my house. Many armed policemen step outside with guns all pointed at the two men. Thank god, saved by the police. I let out a sigh of relief as my life is not over, but just beginning.

Leave a Reply. We'd love to hear from you.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s