Starcrossed Lovers?

All day the rain has been coming down relentlessly. At 10:00 PM, with sunset passed but rain still coming, my parents still aren't home from their shopping trip. I hope they're all right. As if answering my prayer, I receive a phone call from them. Apparently, they got caught behind some flooding and can't make it home tonight. "All right, love you, good night," I say with a sigh, then head upstairs for bed.

On my way to my room, I hear a strange noise coming from the front door. I'm on the second floor, at the top of the stairs, and it's down on the sort of 1.5 floor made up of the little landing with beige tiles in front of the front door. Scratching, something is scratching, at my front door; shortly afterwards, I hear a horrible, wet-gurgling sound.

"Um, um, who's there! Hey Dad, someone's at the door!" I shout at the front door, my nervousness betrayed in my shaky voice.

Evie, one of the cats, lies on a couch nearby, staring at the front door, too. She appears alert, and ready to get up from her reclining position and just make a run for it if she needs to. "Yeah, can I fit under the bed with you too, Evie?" I jest sardonically before sighing and looking over at the front door again. "Dad says it's too late for visitors, come back tommorow morning!"

Then I hear the scratching again, louder, more insistent, and the wet-gurgling sound has turned into rapid coughing. Whoever it is bangs on the front door.

"I said come back tommorow!" I shouted again, this time with less resolve. Whoever it was sounded like they were in real trouble out there.

The scratching intensifies, even louder than before, followed by more banging on the door and anxious coughing. Evie swiftly slinks away. Wish I could do the same.

Instead, I go over to the phone in the kitchen and dial 9-1-1. At least, I would have if the phone wasn't out. "No dial tone...? Oh that's just freakin' GREAT!" I yell, slamming the light gray phone back on the hook as if it's the phone's fault it doesn't work. "Wait a second...it was working just a few minutes ago..." I continue, realizing just how bad the situation might be.

I look back at the front door down on the 1.5 floor of the house. "Um..." I mumble quietly, not really knowing what to say to it. "Um..." I say in a normal tone of voice. "UM..." I shout at the door, "just, um, crawl away somewhere else, please, mr. scary guy at my door!" It's times like these I wish I'd invested in that fancy-smancy new technology called cell phones.

"Please...help..." a croaking voice floats up to me from outside, somehow managing to rise through the constant drumbeat of rain.

"mmmmm, oh drat. Uh, I didn't hear that," I tell myself. I seriously don't want to open the door.

"Only you...only you..." the croaking voice continues. It might be my imagination, but the voice sounds so unbelievably sad.

'What...?' I think. 'Freaky.' After a moment more of just staring at the door in silence, I give up and just walk down the stairs to the front door. It seriously sounds like someone needs help out there; I can only hope this isn't some sort of ruse to get me to open the door.

Undoing the deadbolt, I open the door and looked out at the dark, stormy night before me. Dark and stormy is right...it is so black I can see hardly anything. The street lights must've gone out or something for it to be this dark in a suburban neighborhood. A cold wind enters my house through the screen window on the door as a spray of rain pelts my face.

Ignoring the wet feeling on my face, I move to open the screen door but stop, shocked. Four long, thick, jagged wolverine-looking claws are sticking through the white metal of the screen door near the bottom. They don't gleam like metal does but instead look like fingernails from Hell.

"Ah!" I slam the door shut again. Okay, well, as scary as that was, I'd be dead by now if whatever that is wanted me dead, right? "Kathy, just so you know, this is really, really stupid!" I said before turning around and swinging the door open again then proceeding to carefully open the screen door.

I see a large frame of someone in a dark brown trenchcoat lying on the porch. The rain continues to pour down upon the man?, his claw still stuck in the screen door. As he lies face down, I can see that his head is near the door and his dark hair is wet and long.

"Listen, I'm going to bring you inside now, but you are SO not welcome if you're a vampire or something!" I forewarn the still stranger.

"Why am I doing this?" I say as I go outside and put both my hands on the stranger's paw, carefully positioning my delicate hands so as to avoid his sharp thumb-claw. "Fur. Geez, this guy's got silver fur on his hand--paw?!"

Despite being just a bit worried -- okay, more than a bit worried -- I tell myself I'd be attacked by now if something was going to attack me. It takes a while, but with some pulling and yanking and panting I finally manage to dislodge the four finger-claws from the screen door.

Wet and cold and miserable, I reposition myself to drag the wide-shouldered fellow inside. "Oh...geez!" I say, my voice strained. It takes about three tries before I, pulling him up by his armpits and lifting with my legs not my back, get him halfway inside.

[Incomplete! Will finish for the contest later.]

"Cliona."