Children of the Corn

It began with a rustling in the plants behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder, saw nothing out of the ordinary - couch, chair, two potted plants in front of the window. No rustling, no movement. I shrugged and went back to my computer screen. A few seconds passed and I heard it again. I turned, fully prepared to write it off to having an overactive imagination and being alone in a very large, very old house. The telephone was ringing, Mozart was playing, and the leaves on the plants were in motion. I froze. As I reached for the telephone, the rustling intensified. The doorbell rang and I realized I could hear my heart beating.
I eased out of the office and answered the door then cautiously came back down the hall, stopping at the doorway to listen before I looked around. Not a sound.

Although I was beginning to regret having read one too many Stephen King novels where everything begins so normally, a couple of things were clear to me. Whatever was in the plants had to be small or I'd have already seen it.
Second, it was frightened - more so than me? - third, I had work to do and couldn't afford to be driven from my office,
fourth, I was weaponless. Don't be an idiot! I said outloud and the plants gave a great shiver as the aluminum foil in one made contact with something in motion - something that I couldn't see but that clearly had claws because I could hear them scrabbling on the brick floor and tearing into the foil. The noise was louder, closer and had suddenly become threatening. Scenes from "Children of the Corn" leapt into my mind as I watched the taller plant begin it's frantic dance and then the doorbell rang again and I heard myself shriek. Get ahold of yourself right this minute! my mind demanded.

As I walked down the hall toward the front door, comforted by the sight of the fedex delivery man and trying to get a grip on my breathing, something small and very fast streaked across the living room floor and leapt onto the window sill. I shrieked again and fell against the wall, one hand on my chest, causing the fedex man to give me a very concerned look through the glass. Are you allright? he mouthed at me and I nodded, regained my footing and went to open the door. He stepped in, looking at me oddly and said I heard you scream and I nodded and pointed to the living room where a baby squirrel was casually perched on a couch cushion, regarding us with mild curiosity.

He was in the plants, I said weakly, and I didn't know what it was. Like to scared me half to death. The fedex man
smiled at me and said Reckon it would've me too.

I breathed a sigh of relief and set about opening the front and back doors. After just a minute or two, the little squirrel tapped his way around the corner and slowly crossed the threshold and onto the front steps. When he saw me, he
immediately went back into the house but only as far as the entry where he stopped and sat down facing the open door. He seemed to evaluate the situation, then calmly started forward again. He paused momentarily on the outside steps to examine a leaf, then crossed the brick walkway, ducked under the railing and into the front flower beds. He didn't look back.

Face your fears and you may find you've been afraid of nothing but shadows and baby squirrels.