[WP] Turn the lyrics of a song into a story

Breaking glass.

At least, Jon thought it was the sound of breaking glass. Something had woken him. He glanced at the clock, but it was dead.

He got out from under the covers and groped for the bat he'd always kept beneath the bed. He had an image to maintain. If someone was stupid enough to break into his home, they'd have to pay for it.

Jon adjusted his grip on the bat. He flipped the lightswitch to no avail. The power must have gone out. It explained the clock and the heat; he was covered in sweat from head to toe. At least he and the intruder would both be in the dark.

He gingerly opened the bedroom door and crept into the hallway, glancing into every room he passed. It didn't take long to find the source of the noise; tiny shards of glass were scattered around the entryway. The window had been shattered. Jon cursed himself for not putting on slippers before making the excursion.

And then, a crash. He whirled in its direction, but saw only a shadow pass on the wall. "Okay," he whispered. If that was how it was going to be, Jon could play this game.

He crouched low to the ground and crept towards where he had seen the shadow move, stepping carefully so as to avoid the glass. Before he could round the corner, someone rushed at him, and Jon swung as hard as he could. The intruder fell to the floor before crawling away.

"Yeah!" he shouted. "You scared, motherfucker?"

He tapped the bat on the floor and jumped around the corner, ready to land another swing. But there was nobody there.

"What?" Jon rushed down the hall. Nothing. There's no way they could have gotten away. "Goddamn," he muttered. This didn't make any sense.

He backed up slowly and crept against the wall. He waited.

And then the shadows came.

They slipped between forms. They were gaseous one moment and solid the next, weaving back and forth, wiggling towards Jon with all their might. He swung at them as best he could, trying to predict when they would be solid and when they would be little more than air. Swing after swing, they beat away at each other.

At last, it was over. Jon had prevailed. The shadows lay unmoving on the shards of glass, as unconscious as metaphysical beings could be.

Jon spat and threw the bat down, taking a deep breath. He was soaked in sweat and slid down the wall.

He stared at the intruders.

"Skeet skeet, motherfuckers."

/r/WritingPrompts Thread