Tom enjoyed walking home from work during spring and summer, and the route he usually took cut through a leafy area of his neighbourhood. It was after seven when he finished his day’s tasks at the furniture warehouse where he was the manager, but it was still light outside when he finally locked up and left. The light very quickly turned into twilight; it was full dark by the time Tom had reached the remotest part of the park.

It was a public park that connected the residential section to the industrial area, giving the local residents easy access. The park was a sprawling landscaped plot, dotted with elm, oak and maple trees with a few palm trees scattered throughout. The grass was mowed regularly to keep it neat and a path had been inlaid throughout the lawn to form a twisting but picturesque route. Tom was midway down the path when he felt something brush up against his left arm.

He jumped in fright and gasped, for it was nearly pitch black by then and the only illumination was coming from a crescent moon. As such, the lunar light was not particular radiant. Tom stopped in his tracks and looked around in terror. He was convinced he had felt something or someone touch his arm. Seeing nothing and no one, he started walking again, picking up his pace, his eyes spread as wide as they could go. He had hardly gone another ten paces when he heard the harsh sound of breathing right next to his ear. He screamed and fell back up against a tree.

“Who’s there?” Tom shouted. Only the night’s silence replied, and although Tom was once again absolutely certain that he had not imagined the breathing, he felt like a fool. He was a man who always maintained his composure and was famous for never becoming distressed about anything, thus he was angry that he had lost control. He searched his jacket pocket for his cell phone and hurriedly dialled his wife’s number. After three rings, Bernadette answered.

“Hi, babe,” she said breezily. “Are you on your way home?”

“Hi, Bernie,” Tom said. “Yes, I should be there in about 15 minutes. Is everything OK at home? Are the twins already asleep?” he asked to prevent her from asking him why he was calling her. He hoped she didn’t hear the tremor in his voice.

“Of course they are, babe. You know I put them to bed as soon as it’s six,” Bernadette replied, starting to sound suspicious.

Tom immediately realised he had stumbled in asking her about their five-year-old twins, so he changed tack. “Listen, baby,” he hastily said, “I’m not really hungry tonight, so don’t bother to keep any food warm for me. I think I will call it an early night and get into bed as soon as I can. I need to be at work again tomorrow at five, seeing that we’re getting a delivery of new wardrobes first thing at the start of business,” he explained.

“Tom, I don’t know why you’re working so hard at that warehouse,” Bernadette complained. “Isn’t that why you have employees so that you don’t have to do everything yourself?”

Just as Tom was about to reply, he clearly felt an ice-cold hand grab him by his throat. He froze in his tracks and nearly lost his hold on his cell phone, but just as unexpectedly as the hand had closed around his throat, it let go of him.

***

Tell us: Where could the hand that grabbed Tom be coming from?