This was a nightmare.
Realizing this calmed me instantly. It was the only thing that made sense. My stiff body, the overwhelming fear. And how could someone be hanging off the wall of my house, anyway? It made no sense.
My joints slowly unfroze, my breathing went back to normal, and a stared into those eyes defiantly.
"Go away." I said, and my voice was clear and steady.
The shape twitched, sort of tugged its head back in surprise, and it blinked. I kept staring it down, annoyed.
"Go on!" I shooed it with the flick of a wrist, like you would a squirrel that was digging up tulips, "I have school in the morning!"
As if the notion of ruining my school day struck a cord, the shape glanced sideways, shimmied down a bit, hesitated, then jumped away from the glass and out of sight. I treaded up to the window and looked down to see something incredibly fast leap into the neighbour's hydrangeas.
I stood there for a few more moments, but it was like it had never even happened. Suddenly exhausted, I dragged myself back to the bed, flopped onto the mattress and threw the covers over myself with one hand.
Then my phone alarm went off.
I tossed the blankets aside and cringed violently as morning light assaulted my eyes. I kept them shut with a hand over my face and I felt around the bedside table blindly until I located the phone. Blinking and wincing, I eventually shut it off and sat there, groaning, as my eyes adjusted to daylight.
I chuckled to myself. What a weird dream.
As I stood up I flinched and pressed a hand against my left shoulder blade. It had been sore for days, but this morning was worse for some reason. I wasn't sure what I'd done to it, but clearly my body was resentful.
I went through my morning routine in the usual solitude. Showered, dressed, ate toast. Caught my reflection in one of the glass cupboards and noted that my once bright blue hair was now pathetically faded with my roots growing in and had to be dyed again.
Then I made the mistake of checking the landline's messages.
"Hey Lionel, sweetie, it's Mom," the voice said, painfully chipper as always, "Sorry I missed you, can't call back because the next flight's in an hour. Just had to let you know, looks like I won't be able to make it for next weekend like we planned. The schedule got changed because Eddie's mother died, poor thing was sick for ages—"
I let out a long, fed-up sigh as she rattled on about this co-worker and how very awful this all was for another ten seconds.
"—anyway I'll make it up to you, okay hun? Love you!"
I rolled my eyes as the message ended.
"No you don't." I said as I punched the delete button with my thumb and erased her voice.
It might have seemed dramatic to an outsider, but this wasn't an isolated incident. There was always something with her. She could have requested the time off, but she probably offered to cover 'Eddie's' shift so that she had a good excuse to put off the visit. I knew her too well. Which was a shame, because it didn't go both ways.
The voicemails didn't affect my mood as badly as they used to. I hadn't actually expected her to stay for the weekend like she'd promised, although I had hoped for at least a few hours at the airport between flights. But that was asking for too much, it seemed.
"Looks like it's just us again, this weekend." I said casually to the avocado sprout that was suspended in a glass of water on the kitchen table.
The avocado, the latest of dozens of plants I'd taken in, didn't respond. In it's defence, though, I'm sure it would have agreed if it could.
I threw on my jacket, grabbed my backpack and finally the keys. I quickly checked my cell as I pulled open the front door. The cool autumn breeze hit my face as I headed out, but I happened to glance down just in time to save myself from stepping in—well honestly, it was hard to describe.
It was a pile of what used to be a pigeon, which I only recognized from the feathers, lovingly piled and placed within a ritual-circle of it's own blood. It was a very precise, neatly drawn pentagram, as if someone had been finger-painting with the entrails.
I stood there, one leg bent up and hovering over the display, swallowing hard and slowly, hesitantly, taking a picture with my phone. I had no idea what else to do. This was some screwed up, sickening intimidation technique or something, and I couldn't for the life of me come up with a likely cause or suspect. This was the first time something like this had ever happened to me.
I shouldn't have been quite so shocked. Shadow Avenue, the street I lived on, was not a normal place to live. Mom bought the house, site unseen, after coming across an online posting. She was just itching to sell the old place after Dad had passed away. She'd held off for a few years, until I finished grade school, but finally she'd had enough. She'd said the old place held too many memories.
Then she had me move in on my own while she jetted off on a new job as an air hostess for the summer, and then just decided not to come home. I was fourteen when she left.
But in the four years I'd lived here by myself, I'd always known that something was off. Honestly, I should have been more surprised that this was the first scary thing to happen since moving here.
Still, now that I stood there staring down at this scene, I found my fingers drumming nervously on the side of my cell. If this was intimidation, it was working. I was definitely freaked out. And the dream I'd had last night was bugging me too, because unlike most dreams that fade over the course of the morning, it was still crystal clear in my mind.
I sidestepped the carnage, careful not smudge it with my shoes, and decided to figure out what to do about it later. I'd ask around, see what other people thought. I might have to report it to the police. Or was one incident not enough?
I rubbed my shoulder again. It was like this sudden burst of stress was making it worse. My arm was aching something awful.
I walked to the sidewalk and glanced at my porch again. Then I looked over at the neighbours hydrangeas. I knew, logically, that I'd dreamt that part. I knew, and yet I walked over to them anyway. They looked disturbed, but it was Fall, and the leaves were dying, and it was probably just the wind that made them look so ruffled.
Realizing that I was standing in mud, I clicked my teeth in irritation and stepped backwards.
It was at this angle that I saw a footprint that wasn't mine. I paused and leaned down, certain I'd been mistaken. Yet there it was, a single, bare-footed human footprint, pointed straight towards the bushes.
Incredulous, I whipped my head around at looked up at my bedroom window. I couldn't see any evidence of the figure from last night, but the footprint was certainly real. Which meant whatever had been at my window had also likely been real.
And it left when I shouted at it.
I looked down at the footprint again, then held out my phone.
click
ns 15.158.61.41da2
