The storm was definitely coming his way. The moon was now completely hidden behind the clouds. The thunder rumbled again.

Leaning on the windowsill of his bedroom, the young boy started to count slowly, whispering.

“One, two, three, four, five, six-”

In the distance, a flash of lightning ran through the dark sky.

“Six! Just like my age! It’s getting closer,” the kid murmured, “he’s going to come.”

He turned around quickly to gaze nervously at his bedroom door, but his attention was immediately drawn outside again, the neighbors’ cocker spaniel had just barked. The dog was scratching at its masters’ door, it yapped again.

“They’ve left him outside again,” the boy sadly noted. “They won’t let you in, buddy! You know that!”

As if it had heard him, the dog rose its nose and looked toward the kid, it craned its head, its ears swung.

“Go to your own house,” the kid whispered to the dog, referring to the poorly built doghouse at the end of the garden.

Rain drops started to come down hard on the window. With its head down, back curved and tail turned down between its legs, the dog headed toward its shelter.

The wind was blowing hard in the sheets the neighbor had forgotten outside, threatening to take them away at each gust.

“That would serve her right,” the kid said. “It will teach her to leave her dog outsi-”

Another clap of thunder interrupted his train of thought and made him jump.

“One, two, three, f-”

Another strike of lightning. A slam rang out in the house and the little red night-light, which was trying to repel the shadows of the room, went off, darkness took over. The kid glanced at the door of his room before scrutinizing outside again. The whole neighborhood was now plunged into twilight. The street-light that normally lit the neighbors’ garden was off too. The thunder rumbled again, making the entire house vibrate.

“One, t-”

A strike of lightning lit the entire room for a few seconds. Despite the rain that was now hammering the window, the boy heard someone clear one’s throat behind him. He turned around at once. His heart started beating wildly. He felt as if his heartbeats were louder than the rumbles of the storm. A ray of pallid light briefly passed under the door.

“I knew it,” he uttered with a sigh. As he rushed toward his bed, his arms stretched out in front of him, he heard the door opening slowly. A man in his sixties came into the room and cautiously locked the door behind him. He took the flashlight he had been holding under his arm and hit the room with its ray of light. He stopped it on the bed and smiled as he saw the small shape curled up under the sheets. And like a wild animal contemplating his prey, he licked his lips. He moved prudently towards the bed, trying to avoid the toys that were spread all over the floor. Despite his efforts, his foot bumped into a small police car, the impact set off its small siren. He quickly grabbed the car to shut it up and carefully put it back on the floor. He finally reached the bed, where he sat on the edge of the mattress. The strings of the bed base grated under his weight. He swallowed as he hold out a hand toward the little shape hidden under the sheets and began to fondle it. As his fingers touched the fabric, he stopped and frowned. In a gesture full of irritation, he seized the quilt and lifted it bluntly. The kid had awkwardly arranged two pillows under the sheets. The man instantly calmed down and even sniggered. He knew his prey was close anyway and that he would eventually get what he had come for.

“Smart boy,” he whispered. “Still! You won’t escape from me! I’m gonna find you!”

Under the bed, the kid started shaking. He curled up and closed his eyes with all his might. This gesture of despair didn’t prevent his tears from running down his cheeks. He thought about the neighbors’ dog, the poor animal was probably afraid too, alone in its doghouse, under the rain. All alone in the cold and the darkness. And yet, he would have wanted to be in its place. The doghouse seemed to be a much safer place than his bedroom. Especially now, at night. And above all, especially when there was a storm. ‘Next time there’s a storm,’ he thought, ‘I’ll go in the doghouse and the dog will protect me.’

The bed base grated again as the man stood up. He screwed up his eyes to look around but he knew where the kid was. He smiled and kneeled on the floor with a grunt, disturbed by his big belly. He lifted the cover that was hanging from the mattress and looked under the bed with his flash-light. He finally lit up the kid’s face. The boy jumped and let out a moan. He didn’t know the word and he would have been unable to explain it, yet he felt the excitement in the man’s breathing. He held back a cry, and vainly tried to move backwards, his back bumped against the cold wall. ‘Think about the dog,’ he commanded himself, ‘Think about the dog, that way you won’t think about what he’s going to do to you!’

The old man smiled, put the flashlight on the bed and held out an arm under the bed. His hand grabbed the kid’s wrist. The kid shouted but his voice was swallowed by the rumbling thunder.

The old man talked to him with a comforting and protective tone. “Don’t worry! It won’t hurt.”

That’s what he told the boy each time he came to pay him a visit. Still, it hurt every time.

The man pulled the boy from under the bed. The boy started to shout in vain, his screams were covered by those of the howling wind.

---

The neighbor’s dog had left the boy’s mind, leaving him alone with his torturer. Fast asleep in his precarious dog house, he let out a long sigh.

Outside, thunders and lightning had finally come together, the storm was raging.