The Forgotten Years

Doesn’t the title just say it all?

Chapter 2: Death comes knocking

Bill Cleg had come home late, after drinking away his sorrows for the umptieth time in The Dog and Beggar. Ernie looked at him, but even when Bill was looking at him, it seemed like he was looking past-to another time. Another place. When he was another man.
Now, he didn’t know what he was. Everything had fallen apart for him-from the death of his wife to losing his son, everything was headed in a downward spiral to hell. Even his business was suffering-was God mocking him for some reason? Taunting him? Teaching him a lesson-you don’t know what you got till it’s gone?
With blood-shot eyes, he stumbled to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of voldka, drinking it slowly. He leaned over the sink and looked outside the window, a bright full moon looked back at him. Sighing, he took another swig and walked to the stairs, the bottle still in his hands. His foot had barley reached the bottom stair when he heard it.
A knock.
Rubbing his eye, he looked at his wrist. 1:25. He shook his head, which throbbed from the heavy drinking he’d been doing and turned to continue up the stairs. The door was then hammered over and over again, angry fist after angry fist coming one after another. Bill shook his head again and wondered if this was the booze screwing with his head. He saw the door rattling in it’s frame and decided that it wasn’t. He walked back down the stairs and to the door. Just before he reached the handle, the banging stopped. Startled, he took a step back.
“What the bloody hell…” he muttered, unlocking the door, swinging it open. He saw no one. He looked both ways and stepped back inside. Seconds before he shut the door, a hand came out of the darkness and grabbed him by his throat, slamming him into the far wall. The figure skillfully slammed the door and locked it, quickly walking to the fallen man. Bill struggled to his feet, then to the kitchen, the intruder hot on his heels.
The intruder shoved him from behind, causing him to trip over his own two feet and fall, though he caught himself on the counter and managed to grab a knife. He turned and pointed it at the man. “Who the hell do you think you are?! Coming into my house?!” The figure, covered all in black, his face hidden by a hood, didn’t answer. Bill lunged at him, though he was unbalanced and nearly fell, barley catching himself. The figure knocked the blade from his hand and effortlessly kicked him good and hard to the gut, sending Bill several feet away. He lay gasping, struggling to stand. The man stepped closer and closer, Bill crawled on the floor away from him, desperately trying to stand, hearing the man’s boots behind him.
He stumbled out and to the front room, almost making it to the door, being grabbed and thrown back to his original spot. He groaned and felt his foot touch something: the bottle. When the attacker was close enough, he stood shakily and slammed it at him, getting him good across the head. The man was thrown by this and Bill again raced for the door, making it, his hands fumbling with the lock, the attacker closing in again…

Ah damn-don’t ya hate cliffhangers? Guess you’ll just have to read the next chapter…If you dare.