When a grumpy old man slams the door in the face of a pushy teenager, he thinks he’s rid of her for good. But when a hurricane catches them together, the storm outside reveals the truth about her shocking connection to his past.
Frank had lived alone for years. The silence suited him, and he had long since resigned himself to the lack of friends or family in his life. So when he heard a knock on the door one Saturday morning, he was surprised, but more annoyed than curious.
With a heavy groan, he rose from his chair. Opening the door, he saw a teenage girl, no older than sixteen, standing on the porch.
Before she could speak, Frank snapped at her: ‘I don’t want to buy anything, I don’t want to join any church, I don’t support homeless children or kittens, and I’m not interested in environmental issues.’ Without waiting for a response, he slammed the door shut.
He turned to leave, but froze when the doorbell rang again. Sighing, he returned to his chair, picked up the remote and turned up the volume on the television.
A hurricane warning for the city appeared on the screen. Frank cast a brief glance at it, then shook his head.
‘It doesn’t matter to me,’ he muttered. His basement was built to withstand anything.
The doorbell didn’t stop ringing. It kept ringing, over and over again. Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen. Each ring got on Frank’s nerves. Finally, muttering to himself, he went back to the door. Frowning, he swung it open.
‘What?! What do you want?!’ – he bellowed, and his voice echoed through the quiet street.
The girl stood still, looking at him calmly. “You’re Frank, right? I need to talk to you,” she said.
Frank narrowed his eyes. “Let’s say I am. Who are you and why are you on my porch? Where are your parents?”
“My name is Zoe. My mum died recently. I don’t have parents now,” she said, her voice flat.
‘I don’t care,’ Frank snapped back. He grabbed the edge of the door and began pushing it closed.
Before it could slam shut, Zoe pressed her hand against it. ‘Aren’t you wondering why I’m here?’ – She asked in an unwavering tone.
‘The only thing I’m interested in,’ Frank growled, ‘is how long it will take you to leave my property and never come back!’ He shoved her hand away from the door and slammed it shut with such force that the frame rattled.
The doorbell stopped ringing. Frank peered through the curtains and surveyed the yard. It was empty.
Taking a deep breath, he turned away, feeling victorious. He didn’t yet know that this was only the beginning of his nightmare.
The next morning Frank woke up and grumbled as he dragged himself to the front door to grab the newspaper.
His jaw dropped when he saw the state his house was in. Broken eggs dripped down the walls, their sticky residue glistening in the sunlight.
Large, crude words were scrawled on the paint in uneven black letters that made his blood boil.
‘What’s going on!’ – he shouted, looking round the street, but it was empty.
Gritting his teeth, he stormed into the house, grabbed his cleaning supplies, and spent all day cleaning.
His arms ached, his back throbbed, and he swore at every movement.
By evening, exhausted but relieved to see the walls clean, he stepped out onto the porch with a cup of tea.
But his relief was short-lived. Scattered all over the yard were bins, old food and tattered newspapers littering the lawn.
‘Stupid girl!’ – He shouted, paying no attention to anyone, and his voice echoed through the quiet neighbourhood.
He walked down the steps, grabbed a few rubbish bags, and set about cleaning up. As he bent down to pick up a rotten tomato, a note taped to the mailbox caught his eye.
He tore it off and read it aloud: “Just listen to me and I’ll stop bothering you. -Zoe.” At the bottom, a phone number was written in bold numbers.
Frank crumpled up the note and threw it in the bin.
The next morning he was awakened by loud screams. Looking outside, he saw a group of people waving placards.
‘Who the hell are you people!’ – he shouted, opening the window.
“We’re in favour of the environment! Thank you for letting us use your yard!” – shouted a woman who looked like a hippie.
Enraged, Frank grabbed a broom and chased them away. As they left, he noticed that a caricature of himself was painted on the driveway with the words ‘I hate everyone.’
There was another note hanging on his front door:
“Obey me or I’ll think of more ways to get you.
-Zoe.
P.S. The paint won’t wash off.”
Again, there was a phone number at the bottom.
Frank stormed inside, slamming the door behind him. He grabbed the phone and with trembling hands dialled Zoe’s number. “Come to my house. Now,” he barked and hung up before she could answer.
When Zoe arrived, her jaw dropped. Standing on the porch next to Frank were two police officers with serious expressions on their faces.