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Jimmy McSalt, a lad no older than sixteen, slumped on the floor and rested his scrawny elbows on the windowsill. His partially-closed eyes blankly stared into the peaceful street that dark night in Stormalong while his parents frantically gossiped in the other room.
“Another couple who disappeared and possibly murdered in cold blood,” Jimmy's father read aloud from the day's newspaper in a low voice. “And right here on our block.”
“That's the third and fourth victim this week and it's only Tuesday!” exclaimed Jimmy's mother. “Oh, they were such a lovely couple… Poor little Nancy must've been devastated by the news.”
“We really need to be havin a town meetin’. Every time a band o’ storms hits the harbor, someone always loses a wife or a parent or an uncle or a child, and all thanks to some maniac knockin’ on the door in the dead o’ night.”
The couple winced at the sound of an aloof “tsk” from the front window. Mr. McSalt glared harshly at his son who had just finished rolling his eyes.
“Ye got somethin’ ya wanna say to yer folks, me boy?” Mr. McSalt hissed in an icy voice.
Jimmy's bored expression remained unchanged as he stood on his feet and stared his father in the eye. “I think you're all gettin’ hysterical over nothin’,” he stated. “Who in their right mind would go around knockin’ on people's houses at midnight durin’ a thunderstorm? Better yet, why would anyone be stupid enough to answer? I bet you're all fallin’ for a hoax.”
“That's enough of yer disrespectful yappin’, young man!” spat Mr. McSalt. “A hoax, ya say?! Then how do ya explain the people who went missing last month?! Do ye honestly think this is nothing more than interpersonal struggles and that they're blaming all these murders on some make-believe figure?!”
“Cats always act so strangely before and after someone is killed,” said Mrs. McSalt. “If only they could tell us what they know.”
“I'm done with this conversation.” Mr. McSalt turned off the downstairs lamp and placed his foot on the first wooden step. “C'mon, me love. We'll all talk about this when we're in a more rational state o’ mind in the mornin’.”
After the McSalt's traveled up the stairs and closed their bedroom door, Jimmy sat back down on the floor and resumed watching through the front window. It was the first clear night all week, so even if there was a real threat in Stormalong, nobody else would be disappearing any time soon. The thought of this caused Jimmy to lower his shoulders, and when his eyelids eventually grew too heavy, he closed them and began to breathe softly.
Tap, tap, tap.
Jimmy's eyes opened and bugged from their sockets. Without lifting his head, he peered out the front window but realized he was in a blind spot. Jimmy inhaled and held it, feeling himself growing numb with each passing second before slowly letting it out through his mouth along with his growing tension. He closed eyes again.
Tap, tap, tap.
A sharp, squeezing sensation twisted Jimmy's guts into painful knots. He carefully melted onto the floor and stared up into the moonless midnight sky; the countless stars returned his gaze as if they were watching a show. Jimmy wrinkled his brow as his heart pounded against the inside of his ribcage.
Tap, tap, tap.
After scooting along the floor away from the front window, the young man slowly rose to his feet and crept towards the door. Jimmy's hands shook and quivered like leaves as he clutched a wooden cane in one and wrapped the other around the doorknob.
Tap, tap, tap!
A cool breeze blew against Jimmy's bangs. The streets of the harbor were dark and void of people. Perplexed and annoyed with the situation and his reaction, Jimmy groaned and turned his back on the road.
“Meow?”
The wooden cane hit the ground with a hollow clank. Jimmy gasped for breath as he felt something warm and fuzzy brush against his legs. He looked down and let out a heavy sigh.
“Frankie, ye fat lard!” Jimmy laughed and petted the large yellow tabby watching him with his big green eyes. “Ya nearly scared me half to death. What are ye doin’ beggin’ for treats at this hour of the night?”
Jimmy felt the blood running in his veins turn as cold as ice. Somewhere in the harbor was the sound of music. “An accordion,” he thought to himself, “like the ones the sailors use to play sea shanties during the daytime.”
Except it was thirty minutes past midnight and all of Stormalong was fast asleep, or so Jimmy assumed.
“Wait here!” Jimmy said to Frankie after closing and locking the front door to his house.
With the sound of his shoes smacking against the cold road, Jimmy quickly ran down the street towards the source of the music. As he approached the entrance to the boat docks, Jimmy stopped dead in his tracks. There, right by a pile of wooden crates, was a tall figure wearing a pirate hat and trenchcoat. They sang in a calm, deep voice that was laced with a foreign accent as they played a sea shanty on their accordion.
“I'm a deep water sailor from Ol’ Stormalong
Way, hey, blow the man down…”
Jimmy slowly hid behind some barrels as he quietly shuffled closer to the stranger. He tried to get a glimpse of their shrouded face, but his efforts were fruitless.
“Aye, ye shouldn't be spyin’ on others, me boy.” Jimmy broke out into a cold sweat as the figure stopped playing their instrument and spoke without turning their head. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“I… I'm sorry,” Jimmy stuttered. He swallowed loudly and his voice broke. “Why are ya down here at the docks so late at night? It's dangerous, ya know.”
The figure let out a single loud laugh. “Why, I simply love to sing to the sea! It calms me nerves when I play in rhythm with the waves.” They resumed playing their accordion and sang once more.
“If you give me some money, I'll sing you a song
Give me some time to blow the man down…”
“And what brings you here?” asked the figure.
Jimmy opened his mouth, but then sniffed the air. Fish, freshly caught fish. He nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. “I heard ya playing yer music from me house and got curious. How come I've never seen ya before durin’ the day?”
“I'm not much of a people person, me boy. The ocean and its many inhabitants are all I need to be happy. Ye shouldn't be runnin’ around all willy nilly the moment something piques yer interest. Curiosity killed the catfish, ya know!”
Jimmy nodded and walked towards the entrance to the boat docks, but then turned around again.
“Do you know anything about the murders that happened the other night?”
The tall figure stopped fingering their instrument and played an off-key note. Jimmy felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as the person turned towards him. A pair of large, round yellow eyes were the only things visible, and they each gave off an eerie glow similar to the moon.
“Nancy will never be the same after losing her papas to the Scourge in the Eye of the Storm.”
Jimmy glanced down at his shoes as the figure turned around and began to sing and play their instrument once more. He put his finger to his lower lip and squinted hard.
“Are ya turnin’ into a seahorse, me boy?”
“I'm sorry?”
“Why the long face? Don't tell me you've never heard of the infamous Snatcher of Stormalong!”
Jimmy timidly put the tips of his index fingers together and twiddled them. “Maybe. Is that the name of the person knockin’ on the doors at night? Why do they only show up durin’ thunderstorms? And is there a reason why they never leave any bodies behind?”
The figure chuckled in a deep voice. “Ye sure be askin’ a lot questions…”
“Hiss!”
Frankie was arching his back and puffing up his striped fur as he stood in front of Jimmy.
“Frankie,” Jimmy whispered. “What has gotten into y—”
The yellow tabby continued to bear his fangs and growl loudly in the direction of the figure, and Jimmy could feel the blood draining from his face. He slowly backed out of the harbor and went up the street.
Without looking behind him, Jimmy walked at a brisk pace through the quiet town, the stars being the only source of light to guide him home. At last, he had made it to his block and paused one last time.
Nothing but the calm whooshing of the wind and distant clangs from the buoys in the sea.
A wave of relief washed over Jimmy and he put his hand on his chest. With a nervous laugh, the young teen casually strolled up the road while swaying his arms forward and back.
“Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down…”
Jimmy's insides twisted into tight knots so abruptly that he nearly vomited. He started to run, but his adrenaline was so intense that it made all the houses on his block look the same. Which one was his again?!
“Way, hey, blow the man down…”
The young man's face was white as a ghost and his running evolved into sprinting. Jimmy was practically flying off the ground with how fast he was moving, and when he finally found his house, he tripped and landed on the pavement.
“Blow him right back into Stormalong Town…”
With his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched into a painful grimace, Jimmy stood back up and ran to the front door. He dug his sweaty hand into his pocket only to be greeted by a hole in the fabric.
“Give me some time to blow the man down…”
Tears streamed down Jimmy's face as he frantically searched the other pocket. He let out a loud sob as he pulled out his house key and stuck it in the lock.
Too bad this house belonged to his neighbor.
“Somebody help!” Jimmy screamed hysterically as he pounded on the door like a trapped animal. “Let me in! Please!”
From the safety of their bedroom, Mr. and Mrs. McSalt lay in their bed holding each other's hand. The incoherent, blood curdling shrieks were so distraught that the couple didn't realize they belonged to their only son.
“Do not open that door,” droned Mr. Salt.
Mrs. Salt shut her eyes as she listened to the person continue to wail and beat the neighbor's door with their fists, and when they finally stopped, large tears rolled down her cheeks. Mr. Salt squeezed his wife's hand when he heard someone singing in the street.
“I'll sing you a song, a good song of the sea
With a way, hey, blow the man down
And trust that you'll join in the chorus with me
Give me some time to blow the man down…”