The Film of Fear

by Frederic Arnold Kummer

With a gasp of fear, Grace turned and buried her face in the pillows. Fingers seemed clutching at her hair. An arm, wearing a silken sleeve, brushed her cheek, lay across her throat. A low voice muttered unintelligibly in her ear, filling her with horror. She felt her senses reeling. She thought herself about to faint.

Then, in a moment, the creature was gone, and she heard it moving noisily about the further end of the room.

From time to time there came a crash, as though in the darkness it had upset something. Then would follow long, uncanny periods of stillness, broken only by the horrible muttering. She lay with her head buried in the pillows, wondering at what instant the figure would again appear at her side.

For a long time she remained thus, straining her ears to keep track of the creature's movements. And as the moments passed, she began to take courage, to hope that since no harm had as yet been offered her, the thing in the room, whatever it was, might not come near her again.

It appeared to have crept to the door, and from it came a low, quite human whimpering, as though it were in great grief. Perhaps, Grace thought, this was caused by the absence of the two women. She lay quite still, trying vainly to free her hands from their encircling bands, praying silently that Richard would come to her assistance. Her nerves were badly shaken. She contemplated hours, even days of such a situation with terror. At least, however, the coming of the dawn would bring one relief. She would be able to see what this uncanny thing was that shared her captivity.

Suddenly she became aware that some one was ascending the stairs in the hall outside. Could it be Richard coming to her assistance? She strained her ears, fearing that it might be only one of the tenants of the apartment above, returning home at a late hour.

The creature at the door had apparently also heard the approaching sound, for its whimperings ceased. Grace could tell by its movements that it had risen. There was a faint sound of fingers sliding over the polished surface of the door. The steps outside came to a halt.

With all her force Grace tried to cry out, but the gag prevented her from uttering a sound. Then there came a sharp knocking at the door.

The figure before it seemed to be fumbling noiselessly with the catch. In a moment Grace felt, rather than saw, that the door had been opened. Another interval of silence came, and then the person outside flung himself heavily forward.

The silence of the room was broken by a fall, a succession of unearthly screams. Grace saw a dark body go hurtling through the air, and then came the sharp, vicious crack of a pistol. The next thing she saw was her husband, bending over her, flashing an electric torch in her face. With frightened eyes she looked up at him and tried to smile.