Inside a cupboard

The light seeps under the door and if I concentrate very hard I can just make out the outline of some of the cleaning utensils stored here under the stairs. 

My heart beats faster and faster as I imagine the intruder going stealthily from room to room, ransacking drawers in his search for God knows what. 

The footsteps come closer and I cower in the corner with my eyes firmly shut, hoping and praying that he will not try this cupboard door yet.  

The sound of the footsteps recedes as he moves up the wooden staircase, two steps at a time, and then I hear muffled curses coming from the second bedroom; thank goodness for the new born puppies who have taken over that room and are now running riot through the upper level of the house. 

I need a distraction to buy me some time. 

Then I hear the sound of running puppy feet and pray that the stair gate is still closed.

While these thoughts go through my head I also think about the baby sleeping on the porch in his pram. 

How long will he stay asleep? Has the sun moved him into shadow? Will he wake if he hears the puppies running across the bare floorboards upstairs?

The bedroom doors slam as the intruder goes from room to room, swearing as a puppy, or maybe two, gets under his feet.

My cupboard hideaway begins to feel more claustrophobic as the minutes tick by and the footsteps echo down the staircase.

I finally feel brave enough to carefully find the small light bulb and unscrew it from its fitting, hoping all the while that my intruder will not investigate if the light does not go on.

Then I hear the scratching on the outside of the small oak cupboard door. 

The puppies have found me! 

But where is the intruder?

I hold my breath and again cower into the darkest corner of the cupboard, all the while listening for footsteps on the stairs.

31.8.12 exercise 4