Darkside Read Online Free PDF

minutes in Jonathan’s room. Then there was silence. He pressed himself flat to the floor, and looked out through the crack underneath the door. First all he could see was the bathroom door, but then suddenly a pair of black shoes came into view. Jonathan lay very still, trying not to breathe, alarmed by the clamouring of his frantic heartbeat.
    Above his head, the door handle began to turn slowly, until the lock stopped it. He hoped fervently that a locked door would put off the intruder, but the handle began to turn again, more forcefully this time. There was a high-pitched whining noise from the landing that sounded more animal than human. He froze as the door began to rattle violently. Abandoning all hope of hiding, Jonathan raced across the room to the desk and, straining with the pressure, pushed it across the door. On the landing the whining got louder, and there was an explosion of scratching on the door. The sound of the high-pitched scrabbling on the woodwork set his teeth on edge.
    Jonathan began blindly piling objects on top of the desk: a chair, a heavy wastepaper bin, anything that could help to create a barrier. The intruder hammered on the door, which trembled under the force of the blows. Jonathan ran to the window and looked down at the ground, wondering if he could survive the jump to the garden. Then the banging and the scratching suddenly stopped. There was a pause. He held his breath in the silence.
    â€œIt’s OK, Jonathan. It’s me!”
    It was Mrs Elwood. He had never been so relieved to hear her voice. Jonathan pulled the objects away from the door and opened it. She was standing in her dressing gown and slippers, with a golf club in her hands. Seeing the fear in his eyes, she started.
    â€œMy God! What’s going on?”
    â€œThere was a burglar!” Jonathan gasped. “Someone broke in. . .”
    Mrs Elwood gave him a dubious look. “I didn’t see anyone. Are you sure your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you?”
    â€œPositive! There was someone here,” Jonathan said desperately. “I’m not making it up! Look at the door!”
    Mrs Elwood peered up at the woodwork. The lacquered surface was criss-crossed with long, white scratches. Her jaw hardened. “I see. Nasty. Come on. You can stay in my spare room tonight.”
    She took him gently by the arm, and Jonathan allowed himself to be led away, but not before he had locked the study door behind him. It might be a futile gesture, but it was the best he could do. For now, he had to leave the study and all its secrets intact.
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    M rs Elwood hummed cheerily as she bustled around the kitchen, stirring and flipping and buttering. She used a small stepladder to reach things down from the high cupboards, scurrying up the steps with practised ease. On the stove a pan of baked beans was bubbling away, and the air was heavy with the smell of fried bacon. In the background the radio was playing a pop song that had been a massive hit a few years ago. The morning had dawned bright and cold, and the room was filled with pale light.
    At the kitchen table Jonathan blew on his cup of tea and took a cautious sip. It was hot and sweet – perfect. Lots of things seemed right about this morning, which made it all the more difficult not to feel a bit stupid about what had happened the night before. He felt less sure about what had been real and what hadn’t. OK, something had happened to the study door, but had there really been an intruder? Mrs Elwood hadn’t seen anyone. Maybe it was just something to do with the wind. Maybe he had dreamed the whole thing up. Those terrified patients at the hospital must have got his imagination working overtime.
    Mrs Elwood brought over a plate of fried breakfast and sat down opposite him. Jonathan didn’t usually bother eating breakfast, but today he attacked the food voraciously.
    â€œCareful. You’ll give yourself