This is a story I started a while ago and never got back to. It probably won't end up as a long story, but I would like to finish it. It was part of some practicing I was doing with suspense and adding conflict or setbacks to a story.
John heard his mother calling from downstairs.
"John, they're here! Come down!"
Who was she talking about? His mother sounded concerned. Probably dinner guests he had failed to remember. John was lying on the bottom bunk on his wooden bed. The yellow undecorated walls of his room surrounding him. He sat up and slid out of his bed. He hit his head on something. There was a loose screw that he had been meaning to tell his dad about.
"I think my forehead is bleeding." he said out loud.
John walked out into the hall and started towards the bathroom. Suddenly, his older brother ran out of his room past him towards the stairs.
"They are here John. We need to get downstairs." said his brother.
"Who is here?" John asked. It was too late. His brother was already running down the stairs. John started towards the bathroom again when he heard yelling outside. He turned back towards the other end of the hall, still holding his hand on his forehead. At the end of the hall, a small window with a wooden frame and four pains of glass looked out onto the front yard and quiet street.
Again, he heard yelling. "Get out here. Now!" yelled a man's voice from outside.
Just as John got to the window, he caught a glimpse below of someone going in the front door. Who was that? Why were they yelling? John decided his forehead would have to wait. He ran back to the stairs and looked over the railing to see if he could see who had come into the house. He couldn't see anything.