Shadows in the dark
Those creep under your blanket
Walking in the park

Emma was lying in her bed. Darkness surrounded her in a moonless, hot summer night. It was quiet, but the old house was whispering. Wooden planks were shrinking in the heat and rubbing against each other which made strange sounds. Emma was listening in her loneliness. Her parents had gone out and Emma was waiting for them to come back. Time was slowly creeping along.

Then the sounds grew louder and louder. There was noise in the attic. Someone was walking over the floor, someone with heavy boots. Emma pulled her blanket over her head and curled up like a hedgehog that was attacked by a dog. She squeezed Otty, her teddy Sea Otter, in her hand. She twisted its tail around her pointing finger of her other hand. Terrified Emma started sweating but she did not dare to breathe. After a while she let fast strokes of air in and out without making a single sound.

Should she scream? But the burglars probably thought the house was empty. They might hit her or even kill her. Ruffers could not protect her. It was only a toy-dog lying at her back making her even hotter. She could call someone, but the phone was downstairs. It was impossible to walk down the wooden stairs without making noise. It was even impossible to escape through the window, because it was ten feet high over the ground.

Very slowly Emma stretched her legs from under the blanket for cooling. Her blond curls were soaked in sweat. If only her parents would come home. Emma tried hard to glance at her clock. It was too dark to see anything. It would have been foolish to switch on the light, the burglars might see it. What were they doing in an attic full of hay and straw anyway? There was nothing to steal. Maybe they just entered the house over the roof. The attic had a door to the outside, so that hay and straw could be thrown in. This door had only a bolt from the inside, no lock.

From the attic door to Emma’s room was a long way to walk. The burglars first had to walk straight then right down a ladder to the granary. Right again a ladder went down to the hall. It was a big hall, big enough for a tractor and a wagon. At the southern top of the hall were four doors. Only one of them entered in the hallway to the living room and the bedrooms and bathrooms. From this hallway stairs went up to Emma’s and her sisters’ bedrooms.

Emma listened if she could hear any door opening. Nothing, the house had fallen silent again, just the usual cracking of wooden planks. If only the parents would come home. A car passed by. For less than a second there was light in Emma’s room. Was someone standing in the corner? Emma’s green eyes moved wildly in fear like a cat attacked by a badger.

Was there some noise from the living room and the study? Emma could not tell. Her young heart was pounding like a hammer. In those rooms was stuff worth stealing, not in Emma’s. However, Emma’s pajama was soaked. Beads of perspiration were tickling her back. Emma did not dare to move, so no one would notice her. Keeping still was harder than running a marathon, especially for a teenager like Emma.

Emma waited for another car. It seemed to take hours, but the one corner in her room was too dark to see anybody. Then the noise in the attic started again. So, were the burglars leaving? Was she supposed to call for help now? Emma did not move a muscle. She waited to hear a car leave, but it did not. Emma fell asleep.

The next morning Emma was totally cranky and dog-tired when she shambled into the kitchen. Did she have a nightmare? When did her parents come home? She did not hear them. There was no excitement, no police.

“I was just in the attic to throw down some hay and guess what I found there?” said Emma’s mother to her father.
“That marten had been steeling eggs again. I found five empty egg shells in the hay.”