The clock in the kitchen ticks loudly. It chimes on the half hour. The sun is past its zenith, traveling down the sky. I cannot see it, but I can feel its presence, even though I am safe from it here in the darkness. Birds sing in the trees by the window. They echo the same simple tune, over, and over, and over: a birdie tape loop. If I had enough energy I would shoo them away, but I am trying to sleep. The curtains are pulled shut. Not a single ray of sunlight can escape through to disturb my slumber. I doze peacefully.

Footsteps on the walk, and then the porch. Large men with heavy boots and purposeful strides. I can hear clanging of metal against wood. Guns? Spades? My heart fills with fear. What can they want here?

There is a heavy pounding on the door. I cannot move to answer them. I am too loaded down with sleep. Perhaps they will go away.

Suddenly the wood of the door splinters. I hear their footsteps in the hall. They split up--boots in the kitchen, the living room, the guest room, the back bedroom. Voices call to one another from different parts of the house.

"Nothing in the front bedroom."

"Nothing in the back bedroom, either. I checked closets and under both beds. I couldn't find any trap doors or hidey holes anywhere. Must be somewhere else."

Nothing in the kitchen, either. Hank, can you bring a flashlight here? Mine burnt out. This hall closet is a big sucker!"

A heavy sigh of exasperation, and more footsteps toward the hall.

"Tony, don't you ever buy batteries?"

A pause, then, "Nothing in there."

Lower, not as easily heard, "I checked in the living room. Nothing worth anything in there, either. Do you think she ever cleans?"

Laughter, harsh and coarse.

"Who needs to? She never uses the place much, anyway."

"So, do we check out back?"

"No, there's one more place to check."

"Aw, come on, Hank! You don't think, she'd hide it in the attic?"

"Sure she would. It's nice and large. Lots of room to store stuff. Wish there was a basement. I hate crawling around in attics."

Fear clutches me. What if they find me? If they look too closely . . .

Sounds of hawking and spitting--on my newly cleaned hall floor! They'll pay dearly for this if they wait a bit. The sun--well, maybe they'll delay a bit more. None too smart, this crew. Still, it never pays to be too careful.

Boots stomp around, poking about in the back porch and the laundry room. Much good that will do them!

The return. The banging of something--a chair? A stepping stool? A ladder? Yes, a ladder. Oh no!

"Hold this for me, Mitch. I don't trust it. The rungs are almost rotted through."

Good, they didn't find the good ladder in the shed. Serves them right!

Creaking, and then wood splintering. A heavy fall and curse words. More coarse laughter.

"Maybe the chair would work better, Hank. Or maybe you could lose a few tons."

"Maybe I oughta . . ."

Laughter, and sounds of a chair being dragged from the kitchen. Good, they're taking their time. If only they could give me a few minutes . . . I wish they had let me sleep a little longer. I hate being awakened early.

Hands, pushing up on the attic door. He doesn't have quite enough height to open it fully, or to climb in. It slams to.

"Ow!" Loud cursing now. That must have hurt. Good.

Another chair being dragged from the kitchen. They aren't planning to stack them, are they? Nobody could be that stupid.

Muttering, grunting. No, two are standing on chairs, helping one of them up to the attic door.

The door slams in and down. Dust flies everywhere. A flurry of sneezes. I can hear groping about in the darkness. One of them grunts, pulling himself up. The two below on chairs yell, trying to stay upright.

"Hey! Stop kicking! Aaaah!"

Heavy thud. One of the chairs topples. I can almost see the other waving his arms to stay upright.

Scraping at the attic door. The sound of wood hitting wood. What was that? The first one seems to have climbed up. No! It's too soon!

A clattering down below, then more grunting. They're sending another one up. Scrabbling about the hole.

"Hey! How about a hand up?"

Heavy footsteps toward the hole. Grunting. Two more men being pulled up, one at a time.

Good, take your time.

I can see the glimmer of a flashlight through cracks in the wood. Ow! Bright! I shut my eyes. Almost, but not quite time. Fear still grips me. They are so close!

The light flickers around the room. Footsteps surround me. I peek. They can't see me, but I can see them through the cracks.

A creaking of hinges and a lid banging back. They are looking in boxes. It's only a matter of time, now. My muscles tense, to no avail.

They come closer. Wait! There are three more boxes! Please choose them! No luck. Here they come.

The hinges scream in my ears and I close my eyes just in time. Light burns at my face. An intake of breath.

"Well, there she is." Satisfaction in his voice, but it wavers with fear. I risk opening my eyes enough to see through the lashes.

They stand there rather comically, holding crucifixes and hammers, with sharpened stakes stuck in their belts. Superstition. I wonder if they hurt themselves getting up here. Only one of them looks even vaguely Catholic. Probably Tony.

My muscles tense, ready to spring. Still not time, yet. I am impatient. I don't have the time to spare.

"Gee, do we really have to do this? She's such a pretty little thing, lying there. Makes me want to kiss her."

Harsh laugh.

"Don't get too close. She bites." He chuckles. "Don't be fooled by her beauty. She's 500 years old."

Cad! I'm only 410.

"Mitch, hand me the stake. Tony, you hold the light. We gotta do this first. The sun is going down soon."

Sooner than you think. If it doesn't go down soon enough, this is really going to hurt. A wooden point pokes my ribs. None too sharp, but the hammer will take care of that. The hammer raises, poised.

Now!

I am mist, flowing through the cracks, up to the ceiling, coalescing.

The hammer falls, so does the stake and Hank. The point hits wood. Men scream and the flashlight falls. I could so easily take care of these three idiots, but I won't. I'm not the monster they think I am.

Laughing, I become a bat, swoop down, through the door, the kitchen, hallway, living room, and through the front door. Free! Free at last!

One last glance at the house. Alas, I really loved this place. I'll have to find somewhere else to sleep in the morning. I can't return here. Too much at stake.