A loud thump broke me from my dream, eyes snapping open with surprise. What the hell was that? I sat up in my bed, sheets sliding off to expose my bare upper half. I tried to blink the haze of sleep that blurred my vision as I gained my bearings. Outside my now frosted windows, swirls of snow blew about and muddled what little light came into my darkened bedroom. Is that a blizzard?
Another thump echoed from the doorway, down the hallway from what I could guess. Did someone break in? It’s probably not a thief, just someone looking for shelter; but you can never be too sure. I reached over to the side of the bed, grasping for a metal baseball bat propped against the dresser. A few attempts later, I managed to wrap my hand around the handle, the cold metal reminding me of just how long it had been since I had last held one.
I rose from my bed and crept into the hallway, setting my back against the wall. I measured every step, testing each wooden plank before fully committing and moving forward. If there was a thief, especially an armed one, I wanted to have the element of surprise. I peeked into the living room; just enough what was inside. Dim light came in from the window, and an overturned coffee table with a spilled cup of vodka immediately caught my attention. Alcohol drenched most of the carpet I could see. My brow scrunched with confusion when I spotted a trail of, what I assume, were tiny, wet shoe prints. They led off in the direction of my bathroom, its door slightly ajar.
Despite the rising anxiety in my chest, I crept towards the bathroom, curious to see who—or what made the prints. My grip tightened on the baseball bat. I freed a hand and placed it against the door and paused for a moment. The soft tapping of something moving around on the tiles greeted my ears. Hyping myself up for a moment, I slammed the door open, quickly stepping in and bringing my weapon to bear. My eyes widened in shock at what I saw. What appeared to be a diminutive woman appareled in a soaked green festive outfit clinging to her body, a pointed elf hat, and candy cane patterned leggings. A pair of strangely pointed ears poked out from her long blond locks. She stood on the toilet bowl, hands reaching up for a window just above. The window was locked fast, but she seemed intent on climbing out anyway.
"What the hell?!" I exclaimed, taking a step back. She looked like one of those stereotypical Christmas elf I saw in cartoons as a kid.
The womans head snapped to me, a startled expression crossing her soft features. Then she started shifting her wright from foot to foot, readying herself to jump the window.