deathcomeswiththeterritory

[deathcomeswiththeterritory]

Playing with fire

There was a slight breeze in the partially open window.  The vinyl blinds rattled like ankle chains as they breathed inward and outward like lungs.  Sixteen fingertips lightly rested on the heart-shaped wood. A juxtaposition of anticipation and trepidation created an unstable energy in the small bedroom.  Glances are exchanged in the near darkness, and neither owner of the two erratically beating hearts are sure of speaking first.  Finally, someone cleared their throat and the “business” of the evening began.  

At the mere invocation of the name, both hearts in the room reacted.  For just a moment, in the silence of the pause, their rhythms stuttered.  Both listened but there was only the wind and the blinds moving.  The flickering of the candle was written off - until it went out.  Breathing ceased, and though the temperature was in the low 70′s that night, goosebumps rose on two pairs of forearms.  

A ringing phone broke the tension and both parties laughed dismissively at the proclaimed “bust” of an experimental evening.  The nearby newly-discarded cellophane wrapper was thrown into the trash bin and the spirit board was slid beneath the bed and forgotten.  Lights were turned back on and windows were closed. 

Later that night when the house was quiet again, a tired woman climbed into bed and set an alarm to meet a friend for lunch in a few hours.  It took no time for both eyes to close and stay that way, and for her breathing to deepen and slow.  She slipped into the darkness behind her eyelids.

Suddenly she was gasping for air and sitting upright - eyes wide and scanning her dark surroundings.  The house was still silent, but now it was too silent.   She couldn’t shake the distinct feeling that she wasn’t alone.  

After checking every closet, every lock, and every hiding place, it was a good while later before she returned to bed.  She shivered just before she fell asleep.

In the light of day, her fears quickly faded and receded to the back of her mind.  She doesn’t even mention it to her friend, whose fingertips had been opposite hers on the planchette only a few hours ago.  But when the sun went down later that evening, the familiar unease returned.  Nothing was out of place, but still, she rechecked everything.  Once again, everything was as it should be.  

A fleeting thought passed through her mind.  Goosebumps returned to her arms.  So spooked by the theory she couldn’t shake, she retrieved the Ouija board from beneath her bed and walked it straight to the large trash bins resting against the side of her house.  Once deposited outside, she hurried back inside and rechecked locks and hiding places once more.  But the unsettling feeling remained.  Something was happening, but what?  

“Ridiculous,” she scoffed at herself under her breath on her way to the fridge.  She poured a glass of wine from last night’s leftover bottle, sat down on the living room loveseat, and ruminated over the thought that had burrowed itself in her brain.  

End, part 1.

#true crime #paranormal #richard ramirez