It

Charley had a country song stuck in his head and it was making him mad. Country songs were all alike and he particularly hated the one whose chorus was playing over and over in his mind, something to do with a guitar and tears. Squatting there in the dark he tried to recall some of his favorite Duke Ellington melodies, anything that would overpower the twang of the guitar resonating in his ears. He once heard that if you sing "It's a Small World" over and over it would act as sorbet to your pallet. Charley hummed the first several notes of the tune then stopped, realizing he didn't know the rest. Back to the guitar and tears.

His hum made him realize how long it had been since he'd heard anything. He thought the spot he had chosen would be great for hearing everything beyond the door but for the past twenty minutes nothing had vibrated his ear drums. Occasionally he would hear himself breathe, his nose hairs twitching from use causing a low whistle but even that had become quieter as time went on.

Charley rose from his crouched position and felt around the small space. He checked the wall to his left to make sure it was still in place and not really leaning on him like it felt. Groping above his head he felt the shelf and its boxes filled with pictures probably, he wasn't sure. To his right were the overcoats that usually occupied the closet exclusively. One medium sized jacket directly next to him, two big wool winter coats and one rain coat.

Charley squatted again, reached down to rub his ankles and felt something wet. Were they bleeding? He felt around and tried to sniff his hand, realizing immediately he would have no clue what blood smelled like, but then fingered the trail of water to a pair of wet rubber boots sitting beside him. This made him think of the cold pistol he had carefully laid to his left up against the wall. The genius of putting his pistol in the refrigerator the night before generated a dimple of pleasure on his left cheek. He would win, he was more sure of it now then he had been his entire wait. He settled his back up against the wall and decided to give into the country tune. Maybe the whole thing really wasn't so bad, if more then just the two lines were playing tag with his thoughts maybe he would actually like it. He sat there and sang the first line he knew out loud but just as he was coming around to the second something bumped the other side of the wall his head was resting on.

Charley sprung up to action knocking the top shelf up and then down again with his head. He rested his hand on the door knob and was about to turn it when he realized his pistol was still on the floor. With both hands Charley groped in the area he had left it and was rewarded by the cold sensation of the handle. This time Charley decided not to spring back up but remained squatted as he cracked open the door. Seeing the sliver of light he felt like a blind man healed as he squinted and tried to slowly re-acquaint himself to the outside world. The shape of a couch first then a chair and a lamp came into focus, their rich colors of purple and gold following closely behind. No bodies were around yet but Charley knew they were about to be. He allowed himself only a small open crack between the door and the frame, making sure he didn't blow his position before the right time. The fresh air seeping in through the crack caused a shiver to travel up his spine. He was ready to run, to move freely again he didn't care if it was time, he just wanted to move. No, he waited this long, he could wait some more.

His and her voices drifted up the staircase around the corner from where Charley was squatting. He renewed his grip on the door knob and the pistol, his muscles tense with anticipation. The voices stopped what seemed like two steps away from where Charley was, causing his body to move forward and back again with so much force that he almost fell out of the door. Where they walking back to where they had come from? He was sick of waiting but somehow patience possessed his body and he sat perfectly still. Actions without thought would completely ruin the whole thing and he wasn't about to have waited in vain. The voices were moving again, towards him. Four steps away. Two steps away.

The closet door was flung back with such force that a hole in the wall behind it was later proof of Charley's antics. His taught body burst from its hiding place like a pebble from a sling shot and both targets were completely soaked with ice cold water before they could even see who was in front of them. The water pistol held up for only a few seconds under Charley's exploding grip and soon both targets and Charley fell laughing onto the wet floor.

"You win!" the targets cried.

"Not it." Charley said.