It’s late October, near midnight.  The rain is teaming down.  The raindrops look like tiny diamonds under the light of the street lamps.   I leave the brightness of the main street, and enter the long quiet road towards where I live.  There’s a park on the left hand side, running the full length of the road.  It’s a blanket of eerie darkness.  I cross the road to where the houses are.  I notice which house’s still have lights on.

My footsteps seem to echo in the darkness.  I wish I had worn soft shoes.  Suddenly I hear footsteps behind me.  As I pass the next lamp post, I notice a second reflection behind my own.  My heart is pounding.  The rain is getting heavier, forming great puddles at the side of the road, drains blocked by leaves.  I wish I had an umbrella in my bag.  I could use it to defend myself.  There are still a few blocks to go, but the footsteps continued behind me.  The next turning is where I live. He might walk straight on.  My heart is in my mouth.  I can’t bear it. I take the key out of my pocket, and turn right, into my road of terraced houses.  No front gardens.  I pretend to open the door of the third house hoping they pass.  A man’s voice from behind me says “I think you have the wrong house”.

What are the chances? I put the key back into my pocket and walk as fast as I can until I reach my house, hardly breathing.

Josephine Nolan