My husband handed me a gun.

"What the heck is this for?" I asked in total bewilderment and apprehension. "And where on earth did you get it?"

"You know there's been a lot of break-ins in the neighborhood lately, and we can't rely on the police to show up on time. Besides, I want you to be able to protect yourself when you're alone, especially when I get called out for work in the middle of the night. And never mind where I got it."

"Paul! You're scaring me! You didn't do anything illegal, did you?"

"No, Corine. I've been planning on buying a gun for weeks. I told you about it. I've been going to the firing range with my friend Ron on weekends. I finally got all the paperwork in order. It's all legal."

"Yes, but what about me? I never touched a gun in my life... until now."

"Don't worry about it. I'll show you how to use it. Then we can get you started on the permit process. But, for now, you're only to use it in an emergency or when I'm with you, okay?"

"Sure, Paul. In the meantime, hide it away somewhere. I don't want to even look at it. I hope, to God, I never need to use it."

"Neither do I."

A few nights later, my husband got a call from the electric company where he works. A drunk driver ran into a pole, taking it down along with the wires and knocking out power in a neighboring town.

"I got to go to work, dear - pole accident. I might be home past midnight."

"Okay, hon. Be safe. Love you."

"Love you too."

After I went to bed, I heard a pounding on the door. Paul was only gone an hour. He's usually out five hours or more on a call. I knew it wasn't him. Then I remembered what he said about the gun - "Shoot first, then call the cops."

I grabbed the gun and started to walk stealthily toward the front door. Then I fired the pistol through it until the cartridge was empty. I heard a loud thump, and the noise stopped. I was so scared I didn't dare open the door for fear of what I might see. I decided to call the police.

Terrible thoughts ran through my head while I waited for them to arrive. Did I just kill someone?  Did he have an accomplice? And, could he be lurking around the house in the dark of night? Then I had the most haunting thought: What if it was Paul?

When the police finally arrived, they knocked on the bullet-riddled door. I was afraid to open it, but I had no choice but to come face to face with what I had done.

"Evening, ma'am. You called about the shooting?" inquired the officer while shining a flashlight on a heaping mass at his feet.

That's when I saw the bear lying on my front doorstep.

Story and Cover Illustration Copyright © 2023 by Michael DeFrancesco