reminding carol

The doorbell rang, which was a bit unusual. Usually when pushed, the thing would either emit a weak buzz or fail to sound at all. This time, it was the full ding dong, the kind  you hear  on commercials or tv shows, that mimic a sound that hasn't actually been heard  in most houses since the late nineties. Carol    glanced at the tv, It was off. The bell rang again. She jumped like a small startled hamster.     Timidly approaching the door , she saw the lightswitch was off. If she turned it on, whoever was out there would know she was on the other side. She  put her eye up to  the peephole. Moonlight played over the front porch: christmas lights  in a box ,two white wire deers  limned with tiny white  solar powered lights waited to be set up in the yard, next to the evergreen she planted her first year here.  The tree had gained some  growth over the last few years, threatening to dwarf the display.  Branch shadows tickled the deer's noses, dappled and needled corners. Cobwebs shivered like frozen laundry. Why is the moon so bright? No one there. She pulls the chain into the slot,  turns away.

She's only gone a couple of steps when the doorbell sounds again. This time she yelps when she jumps.  She tiptoes the few inches back, fearful to put her eye  to the peephole. She  stands next to it   hands clenched, waiting . Nothing. Her heart's a drum circle but still no  bell. What's the  matter with you? she hisses, tounge against closed  teeth. Does she talk  to herself or the other side of the door?

She lunges at the peephole. The moonlight is almost bright as the sun, corners and shadows sharp as noon, if noon were held in  blue tinted cave. While Carol's scouring with one eye the completely personless porch, the bell rings again. In disbelief, she flings the door open. No one there. She steps out. No one. A peppermint moon hangs in the sky.

Ghosts? She snorts.  There's real things to fear, who needs superstition? The treebranch shadows are quiet sentinels, cutting   the house's siding, slicing the moon's light.  She wishes she had thought to bring a baseball bat. The one right next to the door. And a coat. Some shoes maybe. Freaking cold. She turns to go back inside and the doorbell  rings again. Starled, she squints at the bell's dim ornage glow. The plastic actuator has a large piece missing. How could it even be pushed?  A  large cold gust of wind shakes the evergreen. One of the sentinel shadows touches the doorbell and it chimes.  Ding dong! Carol laughs and turns to the moon and the tree. OK! OK! Barefoot, bareheaded she carries  the deer one by one into the yard, places them in their customary positions, flips the switch. Once again, the snow began to fall.


well not under 300 words, i didn't see that part but

thanks to jennifer and