Smoked Ham an homage to Stephen King

Skriiiiiiiiiitch

The sound jarred me from a deep sleep. My eyes flew open and my heart was pounding like I had just finished running the mile in gym. I stayed perfectly still and strained my ears over the sound of my heart. I shifted my eyes as far as I could toward the sound, toward the window.

Was that a face?

Whump

I flew out of bed and raced down the hall. Sixteen or not, I was getting my dad.

“Rissa?” He groaned as I desperately shook him awake, “Ris, what is it? What’s wrong?” He had grabbed my hands to still me.

“There is someone at my window. Was. Is.” I gibbered back at him.

“Ris, we’re on the second the floor. It was a dream.”

“Please Dad? Come on.” I dragged on his arm until he followed me to me room.

He walked straight to the window and pushed it firmly to make sure it was closed and looked out. Left. Right. Down. He looked in my closet and under my bed. “Okay kiddo, no monsters. Go back to bed.”

“Thanks Dad, but I never said monsters. Goodnight.”

The next morning when I woke up my room was freezing. Granted it was almost Christmas but the heat was on. I hurried from my room to check the thermostat but when I opened my door a wave of heat hit me. It was only cold in my room. I could feel the frigid air being pulled past my body and into the hall, lifting tiny strands of my hair. Like it was flowing from somewhere. I turned around slowly, praying to a god that I didn’t believe in that I was wrong.

Only about one inch, my window was open.

I spent that saturday in a haze of terror. My dad sent me to Aunt Julie’s house and he and Uncle Rhys searched our house inside and out, top to bottom. They didn’t find anything. It had snowed last night and there were no footprints in our yard. They searched the attic and basement, the rafters in the garage. There weren’t even any smudges on my window. Dad said if I was different kind of kid he would think I was making it up. It was decided I would go home that night.

Christmas was in two days.

“Good morning Marissa. How did you sleep honey?” My mom handed me a still warm cinnamon roll the next morning.

“A little restlessly. I kept hearing sounds from the roof.” I took a huge bite of roll.

“Probably just the owls Rissa, they are nesting in the boxes by the chimney.” Dad supplied

“Can we light a fire Dad? Since tomorrow is Christmas it would be sooooo nice to have the fire going while we finished the cookies and stuff. Please?”

Pretending to look entirely put out dad went and built the fire. Mom and I had just finished cleaning the kitchen from breakfast when she said, “Oh how delightful! Someone must be smoking their Christmas ham! Doesn’t it smell good Ris?”

“What are you girls burning??” Dad came running into the kitchen a few minutes later with the extinguisher.

“Walter?”

“Lulu, call the fire department, something is burning. Marissa, outside, NOW.”

I ran into the snowy yard in time to see the fire trucks coming around the corner, someone must have already called. Black smoke was seeping from our roof.

Mom and Dad ran out and together we watched them, in a matter of just minutes, save our house but completely ruin Christmas.

We had to stay in a hotel for a month while repairs were made, mostly water and chimney damage. You see, the fire report said there was a blockage in the chimney that caused heat and smoke to build up. We were actually very lucky.

The Coroner’s report said the man must have climbed into our chimney and frozen to death a couple of days earlier. Tucked against his body they found the remains of a roll of tape, two wickedly sharp knives, and a tiny gold locket belonging to a rape/murder victim from next town over. She was twelve.

I will never eat smoked ham again.