Outside, it began to rain. In the silence of the house, he could clearly hear the faint clattering sound of raindrops on the roof. He sat there for a moment, taking in the staccato rhythm of the rain, the modulating shift of daylight through the windows as the clouds above drifted, moved, overlapped.

He glanced at the clock. It was nearly nine-thirty. The twins were supposed to be here between nine-thirty and ten. Obviously, they wouldn’t be able to go to The Fort if the rain kept up this way, but they could play a game inside or something until it abated.

First of all, though, he had to clean up the breakfast stuff. He sat up and walked into the kitchen. He put the orange juice in the refrigerator, put the cereal boxes in the cupboard. Moving over to the toaster, he glanced down at the counter.

Next to the loaf of wheat bread was a long white envelope.

An envelope addressed to him.

An icy finger of fear tickled Billy’s spine. He stared down at the white paper rectangle. Had the envelope been there before? It couldn’t have. If it had, he would have seen it.

He wanted to walk away, to go outside, to go back upstairs and wait for his parents to come home, to get away from the kitchen entirely, but the envelope beckoned him. He stared at it, unable to look away. He reached for the envelope as though it was booby-trapped, picking it up slowly, holding it at arm’s length. He did not want to open it, was afraid to open it, but he had to see what was inside. Carefully, he pressed his fingers against the envelope, making sure it did not contain photographs.

His mother, naked.

His hand trembled. There were no pictures inside, the envelope was pliable, not stiff, and with one quick movement, he tore it open.

There were only four words typed on the plain white paper:

Come out and play

Come out and play. The words on their own were innocuous enough, innocent even, but the meaning behind them was anything but. He knew exactly who had sent the note, though there was no signature, and he knew exactly what the message meant.

Come out and play.

He dropped the paper on the floor, stepping away from it. He should have gone with his parents. He should never have stayed here alone. What the hell was wrong with him? The darkened house, which only a few moments before had seemed so wonderfully special, now seemed sinister and filled with shadows. He reached over and flipped on the light switch next to the sink.

Nothing happened.

The electricity was out.

He was scared now. He quickly rushed to the phone, picking it up.

It was dead.