Chilling

The Note, Part 5

It’s the day before Halloween and I’m standing outside the door of my local corner store, shaking like a leaf. I can’t believe it.

In my pocket is a winning lottery ticket. The prize is too big for the store to pay me. They only pay up to $1,000, so I have to mail the ticket off to the lottery head office.

This note was on my living room couch when I got home from dinner out with friends last night, at 7:10:

2013-10-29-19-09-47

My lottery ticket is for exactly $1,026.00.

Is this thing that’s leaving me notes actually a lucky angel or some fucking thing? I’m feeling pretty lucky today.

 

 
For Part One of The Note, click here.

The Note, Part 4

2013-06-29-09-35-07

The note’s been following me around since yesterday morning. When I woke up it was sitting on top of my coffee maker. When I got to work it was stuck to my computer screen. It was even sitting on the only unoccupied seat on the bus.

The date is old – June 29, 2013. 9:35am.

What does it mean?

It’s stuck to my tv screen now. It won’t come off.

The Note, Part 3

I enjoy my nightly bath, okay? Sue me. I was determined on two accounts tonight though. First, I wouldn’t fall asleep in the tub, and second, if the phone rang I was going to answer it. I even had one of my remote phones in the bathroom right beside me. No problem, right?

Yyyeah.

I was in the tub for about two minutes when it started to ring. I dried my hand on the towel beside the bath and grabbed the phone. The “on” button wouldn’t work. So I jumped out of the tub, (there was no way I wasn’t answering the damned call. I wanted to know who was doing this to me) and ran to the bedroom to get the hardwired line.

I must have said, “hello” a dozen times. No one was at the other end. Just dead air. So I went back to my bath. This was stuck to the mirror:

2013-10-27-21-29-47

Nothing on it this time. Just the date and time. One minute past the current time that was.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me!”

If the neighbours heard me they must think I’m nutsoid. They know I’m always alone here.

I thought, Fuck it. I left the note there and sat back in the bath. When I looked up, the note was gone.
Part one of The Note is here: https://lindaghillfiction.wordpress.com/2013/12/08/the-note/

The Note, Part 2

I thought it would be safe to take a bath.  I got home at 5:56 just like usual, made dinner, enjoyed it in front of the tv with a glass of wine, and went for a soak.

I don’t usually fall asleep in the tub. Tonight was strange. It was the phone that woke me up.

Of course I remembered the note from yesterday. Of course I was tempted to rush out naked to answer it. But something told me I shouldn’t, even though my bath water had gone cold anyway.

I found it when I went back to my bedroom.

2013-10-26-22-00-53

“Who the hell are you?” I asked the empty room.

The time on my alarm clock was 10:03. The note was written at 10 on the dot. I put the note down and went back to the bathroom to get my clothes. When I came back to the bedroom, the note was gone.

Start from the beginning: The Note

A Secret

Let me tell you a secret. It’s a naughty secret, a nasty secret. It will chill you to your bones.

Let me whisper it softly in your ear. Come on, you can’t resist. Can you?

Now remember, this is an important secret. If you tell, it will change the world as we know it. Yes. It’s that important.

And trust me, only you will know.

I have faith in you, my friend, to keep this secret to yourself, forever more.

Are you ready?

Are you sure?

…

…

…

The tooth fairy is Santa Claus in drag.

Boxes

I spend all my time stepping over boxes. I’m always on the move. Packing and packing some more, stepping over boxes to get to other boxes – organizing what goes in here and which part goes in there.

The ones with the heads leak a lot.

freedigitalphotos.net

freedigitalphotos.net

Shoulder

I am walking along a deserted street. It is daytime and inside the houses, dogs whine, expectant; the driveways empty of cars that instead are offhandedly whiling away dollars in dirty parking lots. The autumn wind blows beneath an overcast sky and the remaining leaves rustle like bones turning to dust in drafty mausoleums. I think that you are following me.

Footsteps plod along behind me to the rhythm of my own and your icy stare crawls up my spine like an eight-legged ghoul. I increase my speed, unwilling to look over my shoulder. To envision you there is horror enough: to see you there will turn me to mortar.

In my dreams I am unable to run fast enough and I awake with a film of cold sweat coating my skin. I turn and see the silhouette of your shoulder under the covers in the bed beside me, framed by moonlight and I awake yet again, relieved to find I am alone.

But now I am sure. I feel static in the air as your hand reaches out. Your dry palm scratches against the fabric on the shoulder of my coat. I crumble, screaming, screaming at the top of my lungs. I awake.

I glance at the dog. He whines, expectant.

Passing

Over you I hover
as a bee

But I cannot be
seen

I am a ghost
of the past

I have passed
away

Since I have been
I’ve seen

The very scene
in which you will join me

For you I will care
to bare

My soul when you bear
the pain of our union

For now I will watch
as you spend your hours

until ours
are one.

The World is My Oyster, Really

“Have you ever noticed that geese, from a distance, sound like dogs barking?” he asks me as he lifts his glass of wine to his lips.

“No,” I reply, thinking him stupid. Really I want to stab him through the heart, but not really. I know I’ll regret it if I do.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” he asks.

“I don’t know, dear. We’re on vacation. The world is our oyster.”

Maybe I’ll strangle you while you sleep and then I can go out on the boat by myself tomorrow and not have to listen to you whine about how much the cottage costs us per month and how much your shoulder hurts when you paddle.

“Maybe we should go out in the boat,” he says.

“That sounds like a good idea, dear,” I reply.

Day 18 Prompt – The Limbo Bar

Day 18 Prompt – Write a story set in a ghost town.