Round 3 Transcript

The darkness in the front room seemed to press in on Jeane as she cautiously approached the kitchen hallway, the beam of her flashlight casting eerie shadows on the walls. The air was heavy with tension, and every creak of the old house made her jump. She could feel the weight of the iron poker in her shaking hands, a fragile bulwark against the unknown threat lurking just beyond the doorway. As she peered into the dark hallway, the beam of her flashlight hit something metallic, casting a fleeting glint of silver. The sound of The Force's footsteps echoed back, heavy and deliberate, making Jeane's heart race in anticipation of what was to come.

The sound came from the kitchen now—something heavy hitting the counter. My fingers tightened around the poker grip until my knuckles turned white. Whoever this is, they're making no effort to be quiet anymore. I step into the hall, back pressed against the wall, and point the flashlight beam ahead. The kitchen doorway frames darkness and shadows. 'Who's there?' I call out, voice steadier than I feel. 'I've got a weapon.'

The footsteps stop in the hallway. The poker feels like nothing in my hands—ceramic and iron against whatever's coming. I move to the side of the doorway, press my back to the wall, and listen. Nothing moves in the dark kitchen behind me. The house holds its breath. Then a floorboard creaks, too close. I swing the poker around the corner fast, striking out blind into the hallway where the sound came from, connecting with something hard—bone, maybe. A grunt, low and male. Not Jeane. Good.