Then she looked at the floor. The boards were buckling and heaving. The house shook violently. It grew darker in the house every moment, she tried the door knob again, but this time it opened. She ran, as best she could with only one shoe, back to her car.
The wind had picked up and tree limbs fell around her car. She put the car in gear; she thought reverse. But the car lurched forward and rammed the porch. She felt the front wheels lift up as the hood pierced the side of the house. The roof of the porch collapsed on to Leslie's car as the car came to rest at the foot of the interior stairs.
Leslie was shaken up, but she pulled herself together enough to crawl out the passenger door. She stumbled from the car, not hearing any sounds. The limbs had stopped falling. All seemed eerily quiet as smoke began to pour from under the car's hood.
Leslie made it to the road and sat there in a daze until the buyer drove up and called the fire department and police.
By the time the fire truck arrived, the house was fully engulfed in flames and the roof had collapsed. Leslie was still badly shaken and made little sense when the police chief asked her what had happened.
She babbled about the house locking her in and shaking. The officer had heard the ranting of a drunk before, but he didn't smell alcohol on Leslie's breath. He figured that he would have to get the details tomorrow.
He had one of his men take Leslie back to her home. She lay on the couch for a long time to collect herself. As she lay there, the events of the last few days raced through her mind. She felt she had to calm down, so she went into the kitchen to pour a glass of wine.
As Leslie pulled a wine glass from the cupboard, the kitchen door slammed shut behind her and all the lights went out.
A neighbor heard a scream come from Leslie's house, and thought she had the TV awfully loud. Then the neighbor went on her way.