Ok…I’m going to change this up a little and turn it into the first person. I haven’t tried this way before in this story, so I’ll have to see what you think. If you hate it, I’ll return to the old style.
March Episode #3
I woke with a start. My eyes flew open and fixed on a spot in the ceiling above my head. I heard no movement in my apartment, but I felt someone looking at me. I lay very still for a minute, trying to focus and just listened. Listening so I could figure out where Simon was. But there was nothing, just silence. Where was he? What had he done to me that made me pass out? The last thing I remembered was looking into his fathomless blue eyes and then feeling...
Where was he? What happen? Had I been dreaming? Was all of this just my subconscious playing tricks on me? I slowly sat up on my elbows and looked around. I was on the sofa. How did I get here? When did I get here?
It was a dream. He wasn’t here, wasn’t real, and had never been real. My gaze was slowly scanning the room. Nothing was out of place; everything was exactly the way it had been before I left this morning. Or at least I think it was this morning. How long had I been asleep on the sofa?
I turned to my left and came face to face with Grover, my traitorous cat, sitting on the coffee table silently staring at me. Grover was very still, just looking at me like I was the dumbest person he’d ever come in contact with. For a second, I thought he was a stuffed cat.
“Traitor.” I said to him. Grover’s look of contempt deepened as he continued to stare at me with unblinking eyes.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me what the hell just happened would you?” I said, trying to figure out if I was losing my mind or not.
Grover moved only his head and I could have sworn it was in a “no” gesture. I stared at him, open mouthed. “Did you just answer me?” I asked, holding my breath. Grover just sat there, not moving.
“I’m losing my mind.” I muttered to myself and pushed myself up into a sitting position.
It had been a dream. Just a nightmare brought on by too many late night creepy movies and an overactive imagination. I stood up slowly, not trusting my legs to hold me and made my way to the doorway. That’s when I saw it, the scorch mark. The mark I’d left on my wall when I’d thrown the fireball at Simon’s head. There it was, plain as day next to the doorway. An eerie reminder of the confrontation I’d had with Simon in my desperation to leave the apartment.
Leaving. That’s what I should be doing now. I needed to get out of here before more of them came to collect me. I sprinted to the bedroom and threw open my closet door. I found the duffle bag I always had packed and ready to go in back of some clothes I would never wear again. I grabbed it and tossed it on the bed. I packed up my laptop and a couple other necessary electronics off my desk in the corner and headed for the living room.
Grover was still sitting erect and motionless on the coffee table, only he had moved to face the bedroom doorway so he could watch me getting ready to run. I stopped in my tracks and looked at him again. Something was wrong, I could feel it. I walked slowly towards him and knelt down until we were face to furry face. I looked closer now, searching him.
“Simon?” I asked shakily. If cats can smile, this one did.
“Oh Jesus.” I scrambled backwards, leapt to my feet and grabbed my bags.
I headed towards the door, grabbing my shoulder bag and keys on the way. I hit the door at a dead run and grabbed the doorknob. The shock I felt slam through my hand and up my arm when I touched the knob was enough to make me cry out and drop to my knees.
“What the hell was that?!” I exclaimed, snatching my hand away and rubbing it with the other. I slowly reached out for the knob again, but this time I felt the power before I touched it and pulled my hand away.
“This is not happening. Simon!” I yelled, but there was no answer. I dropped my bags and went back towards the living room doorway.
Grover was still sitting right where I left him, only now he was facing the door. “What is going on? Why can’t I leave? What is that on the door?” I asked him angrily. He didn’t answer.
“I’m talking to my cat. I’m talking to my cat and expecting him to answer me. I’m talking to my cat, expecting him to answer me and really hoping he doesn’t. Yep, you’ve officially lost your mind Ella.” I was trying to stay calm, but inside I was starting to come unglued.
I needed to get out of this apartment and obviously I wasn’t going to be able to do it on my own. I went back to my shoulder bag and fished out my cell phone. I needed help. I really, really, really didn’t want to make this phone call, but I needed help and there was no one else I could force to come help me.
“Yo.” He answered on the answer on the second ring.
“Jeff, its Ella.” I said while I walked back into the living room. I needed to keep my eye on Grover, hell maybe two eyes.
“El! Wow, long time no call. What’s the occasion? I don’t still owe you money right?” Jeff asked.
“Of course you still owe me money, but that’s not important right now. I need your help.” I said sharply.
“Help? From me? Really?” He asked, genuinely confused. I couldn’t blame him for being confused. Jeff isn’t what one would call reliable.
“Yes. I need you to come let me out of my apartment.” I responded.
“Ummmm….what?” I could picture the look of confusion on his face.
“I can’t explain it all right now. I just need you to come let me out?” I responded quickly.
“Ummm…El? Why don’t you just walk through the door?” He asked.
“Do you really think I haven’t already tried that?” I asked, sarcasm dripping from my words. “I can’t open the door; there is something on it that I can’t reach through.” I said, trying to sound too much like a crazy person.
There was silence on the other end of the phone. Too much silence. “Jeff? Are you still there?” I asked hoping Grover hadn’t done something to the phone connection too.
“Yeah, I’m still here. El what happens when you try to leave?” He was more serious now. Only Jeff was never serious and that scared me more than Grover did right now.
“I get shocked so hard it’s a wonder I don’t pee my pants and start convulsing on the floor.” I responded.
“Oh boy, damn it, I should have known…” Jeff trailed off.
“Known what?” I asked, suspicious now. Silence.
“Jeff? Known what Jeff? What did you do Jeff?” I was getting pissed now and I could picture him starting to cower.
“I’m sorry El. I didn’t think. Well I sort of forgot about it actually. See, I was out at O’Malley’s a couple weeks ago. You know, that bar on 63rd and Broadway.” He started. I didn’t respond.
“Anyway, I went into the bar…” Jeff said
“If this story has a chicken and a priest in it I’m going to throttle you as soon as I get out of here.” I said through gritted teeth.
“Well I didn’t notice a chicken, but I do remember a priest at the other end of the bar. “
“Jeff!! I’m trapped in my apartment, I keep getting electrocuted and I think my cat is possessed. Will you PLEASE get to the point and then get over here and help get me out of here?!” I shouted into the phone.
“Ok, right, back to the story.” Jeff said nervously. Jeff being nervous wasn’t a good sign. Actually, it was a very, very bad sign.
This post is part of a weekly fiction challenge I'm trying. It's a new month and that comes with a new theme. This month's theme is romance and this week's prompt was:
that fateful day when Caesar was assassinated by coup by a team of Roman senators on the steps of the Curia in Pompey (http://news.discovery.com/
history/art-history/ julius-ceasar-stabbing-1210 12.htm).
(Can you tell I love history?) Our character is betrayed, hardcore, by a
friend. The relationship is forever altered, "killing" a little piece
inside, of our protagonist, yet empowering her/him despite the damage.
Imagery, dialogue, movement..
Imagery, dialogue, movement..
Make sure you check out the other writers participating!
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