Flash Fiction ... how do YOU spell terror?

Home alone, the sound of breaking glass wrenched Maggie from her sleep. Fear in icy tendrils prickled the nape of her neck, yanking the wisps of hair and standing them on end. Perspiration beaded her forehead, the little runnels slipped down between her breasts, soaking the front of her nightgown.

A shot rang out in the darkness. It was a bold flash, and all at once blinding! Her ears were stunned to sudden silence. A scream tore from her throat. She waited in the hushed gloom that reclaimed the dark after the flash, her eyes again adjusting to the night.

Maggie crept through the doorway and into the hall. The smell of burnt gunpowder and blood filled the air and it was nauseating. Smoke clung to her like a shroud, its gray wisps still rising from the trembling.38.

Afraid of the dark but more afraid of turning on a light, she picked up the phone and dialed a number.

“Nine-One-One, go ahead, please.”

“Help me … I’ve just shot an intruder. Please hurry ...”