I’ve been in Tampa for the last little bit staying at a friend’s second home by myself

There I was, sitting alone in my bed, around midnight watching tv. Suddenly a couple thumps and footsteps on the roof and I was sitting straight upright, heart pounding.

I had come to Tampa for business and stayed alone at a friend’s house in a less then desirable neighbourhood. As the steps sounded on the roof above me I realized I didn’t even know the address of the house, if the intruder somehow made it inside I was dead meat.

The first thing I grabbed was a hefty glass candlestick holder . . . well that’s not exactly true, I grabbed my less then imposing running shoe first and then discarded that in favour of the candlestick holder. Visions of being stabbed ran through my head and I tried to envision a dozen different scenarios, most of them ended with me being brutally beaten and killed.

I dialed 911 as the steps continued above me, suddenly the scratching, pulling noise intensified and I realized with abject terror that whatever it was was not on the roof but now in the attic. I pulled on some shorts and a shirt, I wasn’t going to get killed half naked. The 911 phone operator was helpful, he kept me talking, which went against everything I believed in as I knew whoever was in the attic could most likely hear everything I was saying.

In what seemed like an absolute age I saw police lights outside the house, the operator told me to lock myself in my room and wait until they inspected the house and knocked on the door. I stayed pacing back and forth about my room and then glanced above me, the yawning black door to the attic was right above my head.

I almost peed myself.

Finally the cops banged on the door and I fled to the welcoming arms of the officer, or so I thought until I walked quickly outside and was accosted by the African-American woman officer.

“There is nothing on your roof,” she stated.

“I swear something is up there.” I answered back.

“You’re imagining things, its acorns dropping onto the roof.”

“There is no way what I heard was acorns, it’s not even windy.”

“Its just acorns sir, its time for you to go back to bed.”

“But I swear something is in my attic”

“Have a good night sir”

And then I was alone, no help from the police.

Walking back inside I tried to convince myself that I imagined it all, that nothing was wrong, that maybe it was just acorns or a branch or something scratching the roof. I climbed back in bed and heard rustling in the attic right above my head. At that point my adrenaline kicked in and I was ready to crawl into that attic and kill whatever was up there. I yelled a couple times and no response. At the recommendation of a good friend I grabbed a can of hairspray and a lighter and giant knife to put beside my bed, if anything tried to attack me I was going to stab and then homemade flamethrower his ass.

The more I listened to the rustling and moving about the more I tried to convince myself it was a possum, a giant, fangy, man-eating possum. At about 2am I heard more banging and scraping and then the rustle of a tree, I glanced out of the window but saw nothing.

I suppose I’m alive and in the end that’s what counts but I will forever remember the night I almost had to battle the noise from the attic.