I just had my very own horror movie excerpt...thing. Shower scene, lights that went on/off unexpectedly, a large scary man (my brother), and creepy silences. Oh yeah. That was uber fun.
We open on water rushing, steam fogging the mirrors. The heroine (me) slips off her unmentionables and prepares to step into the shower. She hears a loud bump coming from the adjoining master bathroom. She brushes it off, thinking her sister must've gotten home, or it was the cat knocking something over, or her brother using the only unoccupied bathroom. She steps in to the stream of water, starts scrubbing - after checking the door is locked, of course.
The bumping continues, at odd intervals. And not your run-of-the-mill bumps like someone dropping something. These are serious bumps, like someone moving furniture. Our heroine starts to worry. What if they're being robbed? And how perfect - she's naked. Horrible scenarios flash through her mind, but she assures herself that her sister must've gotten home. She hadn't said when she would be back, had she? It shouldn't be surprising.
Still, she feels the need to check. She turns off the water, steps out, shampoo in her hair and her leg covered in soap (she was shaving). She wraps a towel around herself, and peeks into the hallway. Yes indeed, her sister's bedroom light is on. It hadn't been before.
It's okay, she thinks, Don't freak out. She calls her sister's name gently, and there's no response. So, fast as lightning, she dashes down the hall and into her room, grabbing her car keys (and thus her pepperspray) from the bookshelf. Then, taking a deep brave breath, she treads back down the hall to stand outside her sister's room.
She calls her sister's name again, her brother-in-law's, her brother's. No response. But the lights are on. How did they get on? She can just imagine the robber standing just around the corner in the bedroom, waiting for his unsuspecting victim to walk in. She even considers checking - but she's seen the horror movies, and while she is brave enough to arm herself with pepperspray, she isn't horror-movie-heroine-brave (also called stupid). She's not about to walk into the dark basement/attic after some creepy bump in the night (or in this case, into a well-lighted room). Also, remember, she's naked and covered with soap.
So our heroine takes another breath, and dashes back down the hall, fully expecting assailants to pursue. She flies down the stairs - she's going for help. Her thoughts are only of the six-foot-six sasquatch in his lair, and how even if he is a gooey teddy bear on the inside, his exterior will frighten away any criminals.
He's startled to see her only in a towel, who wouldn't be? Calmly, she asks if he had used the master bathroom. Answer - yes. Had he turned on the light? A nod. A sigh of relief, she sags against the door-jam, and the story spills out.
He laughs. He thinks he's the real bee's-knees for scaring the daylights out of her.
And the moral of the story is - don't leave me home alone anymore.