Winds20:55 Dec 27 2023
Times Read: 66
"I know I ran fast enough to escape!” Rose argued with the night air.
Her muscles and tendons were torn from her skin, revealing each wound as the lightning blazed and thunder cracked. Something had attacked her!
Between bursts of storm noise, her unharmed limbs and unblemished skin were visible at the bus stop station.
With gripped fists, Rose wept uncontrollably and begged for the truth somewhere in her mind.
Just outside the bus stop and Rose’s awareness, two inhuman red eyes glinted silently above and behind her head.
Rose reviewed her evening for hints of reality. Once arriving home, she set a kettle for tea and warmed a pot intended for a soup dinner. Her thoughts reminded her of a basic, but irritating office job. She recounted the twin bed, an old desk with a rotary phone, a wooden chair, a donated couch, a few books, and an AM radio. The rotational use of this home also confused her.
She often wondered about how there was hardly a trace of previous residents making use of the little living room, bathroom, or kitchen. Her colleagues didn't mention any stories of the previous residents, and the walls and floors didn't show any traces of previous tenants.
Despite her one-sided tales of isolation and personal rituals, she offer to the evening air, the bland walls offered no companionship.
An evening phone call - with a caller who never said a word — surprised her enough to turn and notice the closet with a door that never closed completely.
Something had pushed it open more.
Her heart and mind had thudded in unison, causing perspiration and a trembling realization that she wasn’t alone.
She didn’t bother to wonder about the phone call and link to her closet. It wouldn’t have made sense. She lived alone.
She further recounted grabbing an umbrella, shutting her stovetop off, and hurrying out the front door to catch a bus to her sister's house, where she could go for a night or two.
Where is that damn bus!
The rain pelted the ground and the first signs of thunder sounded off.
Rose hungered for the sight of bus lights by poking her head around the edge of the bus station entrance. She ought to have brought a jacket as her trembling shoulders and lips berated her.
Drops of rain splattered her face and eyes, and she stopped focusing.
Rose held her umbrella outside the bus stop and attempted to discover people walking towards her between the raindrops.
Please be people I know. Please be people I know!
Rather than confirm who she observed, she was forced outside by a whipping strong wind.
The umbrella handle hit Rose's hand and arm, almost hurting her light skin. Her eyes went round with the force of the gathering storm overhead and the sweeping wind swinging her around.
Into the night sky, she helplessly flapped as enormous clouds grew and shrank as though God had intentionally breathed into them. Her hair flew out from under her hair clip and flopped uncontrollably.
Her red lips turned grey as the night got darker. Her dress twirled and tangled around her small body.
Rose cried out, "Help me!"
The harsh environment enclosed her with no compassion. Her eyes grew twice as big as before, and her face soon hollowed out from the wrath of howling gales. She held onto her umbrella tighter, believing that by doing so, she might maintain some level of safety. The bare skeleton of the umbrella screamed in midair, mocking her danger, while she yelled repeatedly.
"Did you hear that?" Alice questioned her companion, who looked at her smartphone screen and shrugged. They were waiting for the bus to arrive with a few other people.
Rose fell to the ground in a heap in the center of the small gathering a moment later. A few seconds passed as she faced the crowd.
"You couldn’t lend a hand?” Rose unleashed inside a powerful roar. Tears streamed down her cheeks and returned to her collapsed state.
Thunder and lightning suddenly paused, and the small crowd collected outside of the mini-sized bus shelter.
Rose lifted her head and opened her mouth wide without saying a word.
One by one, the people were blown into the path of the approaching bus.
Rose stood up, brushed herself off, and took a moment to study the carnage.
She waited expectantly for other commuters. Her smile spread across her face before she vanished into the background of the bus station.
Rose started checking for her wounds again.
That Same Night, A Block Away
While his windows were being pummelled by violent weather, Alan insisted on inviting fresh energy into his life.
The volume of his thoughts created music, note for note. His effort designed a song of a very high pitch, echoing a phrase he swore he heard outside, from somewhere far away in the night air.
“Help me!” became his newest hymn.
As he put pen to paper to add stanzas, thunderclaps shook his small, one-bedroom apartment.
The vibrations created difficulty for Alan to write accurately.
His protest against the weather produced a vocalized timbre that made his song unique.
Winking to the roaring heavens, he thought aloud, “Hey, not bad.”
Pride grew within as more words streamed onto his writing pad.
Yet, more thunder disturbed his abode, partially opening his front door.
Mumbling how he needed to bug the landlord for a much-needed repair, another lightning bolt struck.
This time his eyes registered acute pain from the bright light, and silence and concentration would not return.
“This freaking storm!”
He got up to ensure his front door remained closed but was forced outside by an earth-shaking thunderclap and wind.
While on one knee and sustaining a soak from the night downpour, the walls of his place expanded and contracted repeatedly, as if recovering from his sudden exit.
“What…?”
Once clearing his eyes and studying his apartment, he scrambled to his feet and ran.
The breathing motion of his apartment walls continued.
—
Rose continued to search for her wounds while waiting at the bus stop during tonight’s thunderstorm.
Not finding any injury, she stood up to examine the growing environmental turbulence through the clear plexiglass bus stop.
In a field behind her, a small apartment building appeared to expand and contract.
That can’t be.
The tilt of her head resembled the behavior of a small puppy discovering a new sound. Her attention focused again on the building with the lightning - and breathing walls - confirming her suspicion.
When more lightning blasted another scattered pattern across the skies, she swore she noticed a figure moving toward her.
She held onto the bus stop wall and noticed a tall figure approaching.
“Alan?”
Her guess stemmed from the only relationship she enjoyed in the last several years if it could be called a relationship.
Alan, the tall, thin postal officer, always greeted her daily and graced her ears with the lovely stanzas of songs he said he wrote. She wanted to believe he wrote for her. But he always apologized for incomplete songs and phrases that didn’t quite rhyme.
Her heart warmed every time.
The chill from the night air smacked her back into reality.
The figure moved closer to her, but she could not confirm who it was, trying as much as she could.
The tall figure stopped and fell, only to renew a staggered gait, but with something added in one of its hands.
Rose tried to clear the plexiglass of moisture from the inside of the bus stop to identify this person.
All reason vacated her, ignoring how the rain was pelting the exterior.
Within a moment, the figure became clearer and Rose stood up a little more.
She opened wide, and she screamed, “No!”
Shreds of Plexiglas splintered and penetrated Alan’s eyes and face.
Before his body collapsed motionless on the wet, reddened ground, the item in his hand impaled the earth deep enough to stand on its own.
Two glowing red eyes emerged aside from Rose, just beyond her peripheral vision.
Rose stood aghast and her deformed umbrella remained, mocking her with its skeleton, broken shape.
She covered her mouth, eyes bulging.
The storm calmed, and morning light emerged.
Commuters gathered behind and around her.
No one said a word about the damaged bus stop, Alan’s dead body, and the skeleton-like umbrella, propped up by damp ground.
Rose screamed again.
Two buses collided with the waiting commuters, decorating the road with a growing crimson puddle.
The bus stop stood no longer.
Dark clouds returned, blanking out the morning sun.
Rose exhaled and left the scene, and picked up her broken umbrella.
Rose searched the area for Alan, but nothing indicated that anyone had approached the bus stop. No imprints on the ground. No misshapen grass from anything larger than a blade of grass revealed itself.
The house that appeared to breathe last night might offer answers. She dared to open its front door and call out to anyone inside.
Silence.
As she explored each small room, ordinary living conditions reflected on her.
Used bathroom items remained on the sink top.
All kitchen items remained untouched.
But a single sheet of paper and a pen laying aside it were the only items indicating any recent living activity.
The words on the page were repeated, line by line, on both sides of the paper.
It seemed highly ritualistic, and something she might do to calm herself after a mind-numbingly stressful day at her job.
Two words were written.
Help Me
A creak of the front door caught her attention and she waited for someone to step inside.
The surrounding silence remained loud in her mind.
She closed her eyes to assure herself that her next move was to leave, as she had no official business in a stranger’s home.
Plus, she had no idea what transpired last night, in the storm and at the bus stop.
The door did not quite close completely behind her as she left.
Leaving it the way she found it was best.
Like no one was there at all.
Upon returning to her home, Rose collapsed on her bed begging for sleep to arrive.
She closed her eyes and canvassed her arms, shoulders, fingers, abdomen, and face with her fingertips, searching for wounds and scratches.
A creaking of a door broke her concentration.
The closet!
Rose slowly got to her feet and approached the closet door slowly.
Upon peering inside, two glowing red eyes greeted her. A faint smile also emerged from the darkness inside the closet.
You again.
Rose turned from her closet, exhaled, and laughed at her situation.
Time to get ready for work tomorrow, she pondered to herself.
Once the shower water disappeared down the drain, her lengthwise mirror cleared itself of humidity splotches with each swipe of her hand.
Her mouth opened and no sound emerged.
But she could read her plea on her lips — help me!
Pools of blood collected at her feet once the shards of glass rushed at her like lightning bolts.
A rumble of laughter shook the room and Rose collapsed in a bloody heap.
I know I got away. I know I did, Rose whispered.
END
COMMENTS
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Vampirewitch39
23:39 Dec 27 2023
Nice
xTHANAxNIGHTx
03:18 Dec 31 2023
Very nice read, I like it.
CoolFraming
01:00 Jan 01 2024
Thank you! Much appreciated!