Deacon Songs's blog: "wtf?"

yes its kinda long, dont start reading til you have some time to kill. I started writing this on the boat and I think I will continue writing this story and finish it, before I continue on the Vampire story... enjoy

 

There is a rustling at the window that wakes Sarah from a sound sleep, as if a tree branch was scratching it in a cold winter wind. But, there is no tree out in the yard and the night is warm and still this July evening in Aspen. Her mind begins rationalizing the possibilities of the noise she hears, or does she really hear a noise outside. Is her mind playing tricks on her? Could this scratching sound be something else, something rational, and something explainable? She thinks to herself, she is 35 years old, and that is too damned old to be scared of the boogeyman!

Lying on her side under the covers, she stares at the blackened window for a moment, if there is a burglar outside her window with criminal intent, she needs to know what time it is. So she looks at the clock with the purpose of recalling exactly what time it is if she needs to report a crime. It is 2:34 a.m. according to the clock on the night stand, Sarah’s frightened mind wants to make sure the old clock is working properly and watch’s the clock until it changes for the next minute. But it seems that the time hasn’t changed for more than a minute, so deductive reasoning tells Sarah to watch the clock change, just to be sure. She stares at the red LED numbers on the readout for 10 seconds without blinking, with watery eyes from the motionless air inside the cottage. The air conditioning blower turns on and a cool breeze washes her face, forcing her to blink repeatedly, letting a solitary tear leak from the corner of her eye, next to her nose. The LED still reads 2:34 as Sarah’s mind becomes more anxious by the second.

 The unknown scratching, squeaking noises begin once again, redirecting her attention toward the dark window with a quick shiver. Looking back at the clock, but now its blinking 12:00! Had the power gone out for a few seconds? Sarah would not have noticed without any lights on anyway. “The fan for the AC unit is no longer blowing, so it must have.” Sarah whispered to herself, startling her anxiety with the sound of her voice not realizing she was thinking aloud. Her heart raced momentarily as she began a quiet giggle, ashamed of her imagination going wild, as if she were being watched. Suddenly, Sarah is startled by a shadow moving across her peripheral vision and disappearing. Is something inside already?

A sudden loud Bang and shatter of glass sat her straight up in her bed, throwing the covers toward the foot of the bed. “What was that?” she said out loud. Her heart pounds in her ears so loud, she wonders if it will be possible to hear any other scratching on…..wait, the scratching on the window! She holds her breath in a futile attempt to hear if there was scratching still. Unable to hear anything beside her palpitations, she slowly slides her bare feet on to the cold floor of her room and search’s blindly for her slippers with one foot. With every part of her mind gazing into the darkness, she finds her fuzzy foot wear and stands up towards the seemingly unfamiliar window.

She recalls an old episode of The Twilight Zone she watched with her grandfather when he was living at White Falls retirement home. “Could there be a furry creature outside my window pealing the siding off the cottage, trying to gain entry? Stop thinking so ridiculously Sarah!” she says to herself. “There is a perfectly logical explanation! All I need to do is investigate, put my mind at ease and go back to sleep.”

BANG! BANG! CRASH!!!!

“What the Fuck!” Sarah hollers.

Sarah runs to the door and stops just shy of opening the bedroom door. “What if there is someone in the house or some wild animals in the kitchen, looking for food? I need something, a pole, a baseball bat; I wish I had a gun in here! But the shot guns are in the…”

Something solid made a thump so heavy she felt the floor vibrate. She scans the dark room and decides to grab the metal comb she has on the vanity dresser, after all it has a sharp point on one end. Walking over to the vanity, she hears more rummaging and thumps outside the dark bedroom. “It has to be an animal.” She thinks. A raccoon, or a skunk, please don’t let it be a skunk. If a skunk is frightened, she will spray, and the odor will never come out. Or a bear…a bear might attack.” she deducts.

With a wicked sense of paranoia going, she stalls at the door for what seems like minutes. A quick glance back at the clock reveals that its 2:34a.m. In a state of confusion, she tries to remember if she really did see the clock blinking 12:00..but wait a god damned minute! It was 2:34 at least 10 minutes ago when she was awakened by the scratching at the window. Sarah whistles the theme music from The Twilight Zone for a brief moment, until she hears another crash and feels the humid warm air rushing inside the room, and glass splinters tinkling across the floor. Sarah retreats to the opposite corner of the room, next to the closet door. Considers hiding in the closet like a scared little girl, but she is a grown woman. She is going to figure out what is making all the noise and shattered the bedroom window. Sarah slowly walks toward the broken window; with the silver colored steel comb in her grasp like it were a knife.

Now she wishes she had not come up here to Aspen alone, without her girl friends. Damn them, when they show up tomorrow afternoon, They are going to get an earful if this is some sort of creepy ,clawed , stinking animal from the mountains.

A sudden Flash of lightning lights up the window so brightly, it burns her retina with the white glow of the window. But there was something standing there! An outline of something big darkened the rectangular white out in her eye. Sarah lets out an ear piercing scream and freezes in her tracks alongside the bed as she is hit by something, and knocked unconscious.

 

Sarah wakes up to the buzzing of her alarm clock, groggy and still sleepy.  With her left hand rubs her face and eyes and feels a sharp pain in her forehead. Further investigation of her face with her hand reveals a large swollen and tender egg shaped lump on her brow.  As she recalls the strange events of the night, Sarah turns over to see if the north facing bedroom window is broken. Realizing that her shoulder is sore, she stops the roll and sits up grabbing for her shoulder with her right hand.

Thinking that the window should be broken and is not, and no glass shards sprinkled across the floor, Sarah becomes confused.  Unsure if the noises and the dark figure in the window were her imagination or just a nightmare. But the memory of what happened seem so vivid to Sarah this morning.

 

“Was it a dream? It had to be, but why is my shoulder and brow bruised? “Sarah thinks out loud.

She tosses the covers off her legs, and slides them off the side of the bed and slides her left foot into the fuzzy pink slipper and feels a sharp prick on her big toe. Quickly pulling her foot out of the slipper, and bringing it up to her right knee, suddenly notices that she has been cut. Sarah bends down to pick up the slipper, sits up and dumps the sharp piece of glass into her hand.

“Ok, now that’s really strange!” Sarah says to herself.  “How did you get in my slipper?” She says to the little sliver of window glass.

Sarah hobbles out of the bedroom with her one slipper in hand, and her big toe pointing towards the ceiling as she clumsily limps to the bathroom to clean the cut toe. Lifting her foot in the sink and turning the faucet, reddish brown water streams out of the end for a few second. Realizing the water had not been run in about six months, she decides to skip rinsing her toe and just puts a bandage on it.

Now standing in front of the mirror, she sees the red bruise on her brow and wonders what could have given her the bump. Remembering the soreness in her shoulder, she pulls up her sleeve but it reveals no marks of any kind. The unexplained pain and marks confuse her for a moment, as she slides the hair tie that’s wrapped around her wrist off to make a pony tail. With her dark brown hair pulled back, Sarah takes her slipper and slowly pushes her foot in to it. Feeling like there might be another sliver of glass hiding in there, she carefully wiggles her foot around. Now that she is satisfied that there is no glass hiding in her slipper, Sarah heads out of the bathroom and to the kitchen, to start a pot of coffee.

 Sarah ritually turns on talk radio in the mornings, so she finds the local station to get her fix of news coverage while she starts her coffee.  After she has the coffee grounds in the basket, she looks for the bottled water. Opening the cabinet under the coffee pot, she finds the case of gallons and pours the water in the coffee maker listening to the radio personality talk about politics. Sarah yawns and quinces from the stiffness above her eye. Then something on the radio catches her attention.

“A 35 year old woman was found beaten to death in her Salt Lake City, Utah, home, officials said. Early this morning her car pool companions became concerned when Michelle Mitchell didn’t answer the phone or her door when they called on her at approximately 6:30 a.m. When police arrived they found her in the bedroom floor. Police believe the assailant gained entry to the home by breaking the victim’s bedroom window. The victim was killed by a single blow to the head. The Police have no suspect or witnesses at this time.”

With a burning curiosity and an uncanny sense that her dream is somehow connected to this woman, Sarah starts up her laptop and internet to see if she can find out more about this Michelle Mitchell. While waiting pours herself a fresh cup of joe and sits down at the kitchen counter in front of her computer. With her Google start page ready to go she types in Michelle Mitchell, Salt Lake City.

Within seconds, her first page of results shows several names in different cities, but one is a Photobucket picture album, and clicks the link to go to the web page. Sarah’s heart starts beating fast, and her palms begin to sweat as she looks at the image on her computer screen. Sarah cannot believe that someone has pictures of her on the internet, and is livid! She continues on to view the next picture and reads the caption, “Michelle and Dave”. Suddenly her fury starts to flame worse, her identity has been stolen? But wait, she doesn’t recognize Dave. Could someone have altered two pictures to make them look like they were embraced together? There is No way possible, right? She examines more pictures on the account, but she is in ALL of them! “But it’s not me”, she thinks in utter surprise. 

Sarah finds a link that will take her to the picture posters profile, and finds a social networking site linked to the Photobucket account, for Michelle Mitchell. She follows the link and there it is Michelle’s Facebook profile. This woman could pass for Sarah, or Sarah’s twin!

 

“Who is this woman who looks just like me? Why did I have such a dream like that? It seemed so real, and I have bruises” Sarah thought all at once.

She could have laughed at herself hysterically. If someone else was telling her that they believed, what she is thinking at this moment, she would have told them they were delusional. Things like this just don’t happen, and they definitely don’t happen to reporters! This is National Inquirer type stuff, not L.A. Times for God’s sake.  Sarah is a reputable political analyst and columnist, with a good career.  How could she be having these uncharacteristic feelings and thoughts?

There has to be a logical explanation, one that doesn’t involve dreams and some bad Hollywood plot. One where the dream and the murdered woman are just some freak coincidence, and there is nothing to be wigging out about. Sarah searches her mind for just such an explanation but cannot find one. She turns off her internet connection and closes her lap tap and begins chewing on her finger trying to logically sort out this mystery.

 Her phone rings suddenly, snapping her out of her foggy thoughts. Walking over to the counter where her purse sits, untouched from some mysterious burglar or animal, she reaches in the bag and looks at the caller screen and answers.

“Jennifer, Tell me you are here in Aspen and can’t find the cabin!” Sarah says as her greeting.

“Not a chance! I am just leaving my house and should be there by five.” Jennifer says.

“Oh my god Jen, you won’t believe the dream I had. I need a voice of reason, so get your ass here ASAP!”

“I’m coming Mrs. Jump down my throat! Keep your big girl panties on and I’ll be there in two shakes… well more like 8 shakes, of a goddam lamb’s tail! OK?” Jennifer spits in a tongue dripping of sarcasm.

 “Well, you better be shaking that lambs tail, like you are spanking and old man and you are his dominatrix bitch! Im gonna go nuts if I don’t have some company other than myself here!”

Sarah was feeling like she was being mean and pushy, but Jen knew her to well and she was just laughing at her. Sarah was always going off the emotional deep end when things didn’t go as planned and her closest friends always knew when to step back one or two steps to avoid a verbal lashing.

“Look sis, I am on my fricking way, and I can only drive so fast girl! I’ll be there ASAP.  Get it? Got it? Good!” Jennifer told her.

“Alright, I think I’m going to head to town and get us some sweets, some salt, limes, some good Tequila and Margarita mix. I guess maybe some food too.” Sarah finished with a giggle.

“Just don’t forget the Tequila.” Jennifer told her with a laugh.

“Ok, I’ll see you soon.” Sarah said and closed her cell phone.

 

2.

 

Sarah has been trying desperately to forget the unnerving dream from the restless night before. Her mind won’t seem to let it go, and continually discounts her subconscious voice telling her there is more to this universe than she knows. After showering and getting ready to go to the market in town, she decides to take a short nap.

  Lying on the obnoxiously bright flower print sofa, that her mother so dearly admired because it reminded her of her distant childhood, Sarah closed her eyes and attempted to sleep. It was just before noon, on an overcast dreary day, the early afternoon sun casting a gray pastel light into the solitary cabin. She closes her eyes momentarily, what seems like just a few slow seconds and listens intently to the sound of her heart beat in her ears.  Suddenly she feels wearily like she is being intensely watched.

Sarah slowly opens her bloodshot eyes, fearing that the entity from the previous night was crouched above her, or standing somewhere in the shadows or the dreary milky light of the room. As her eyes peek about the room, petrified to see someone, or something standing close by, she sees nothing at all, slowly turning her head scanning the drab room around her. Still nothing unusual or frightening, but she lets out a sudden spurt of air in complete contempt for herself and newfound anxiety and paranoia. A flicker of a dark shadow in her peripheral vision alarmed her immediately, springing her upper torso straight up, as if she were connected to a spring loaded child’s toy.

Sarah was immensely confused at her surroundings, the room she knew so well from her childhood summers seemed wrong, as well as changing and morphing in front of her eyes. The chair her Father sat in to puff on his eloquent pipe, and black tobacco, slowly changed into a green leather reclining chair. The couch with the sickeningly bright floral patterns, changed slowly into a matching green leather loveseat as it retreated into where the stone fireplace stood, that she helped hand pick the limestone for when she was 13 years of age. The fireplace was also morphing into a plain white wall made of plaster board, with a plain looking chair molding stained in dark brown, solidified right before her eyes. Sarah blinked and rubbed her eyes with both hands, shook her head, flinging her silky brown hair side to side. The hard wood floors changed to a stained beige carpet, the breakfast counter made of solid oak disappeared like a magicians trick. Sarah suddenly found herself inside a strange apartment, obviously a rental property, and the appearance of second hand store furniture about the confines.

Sarah thought she must be inside a strange nightmarish dream because things didn’t just change like this in the somewhat predictable real world, in which she sanely lived in safety. The sound of muffled voices, or rather a single voice in conversation with someone unheard, was escaping from a closed door down the hallway. Unsure of what she might find, hesitation was her only response when the voice became clearer as the dry creaky sound of a door being opened.

“….and I don’t care what you have to do, you get me in protective custody, or I don’t show for court! The female’s voice said, then pausing, waiting on a response.

Sarah could see the back side of a shoulder length, brown haired woman, about 5 feet 5 inches tall. The woman was wearing a small black spaghetti strapped shirt and black bikini style panties. Her wavy dark hair was damp, with a cordless telephone pinned between her shoulder and left ear, leaving what was the bathroom and b-lined for the last door on the left as she continued her conversation.

“Because, I will either be murdered or change my mind!” the woman spoke with aggravation.

 Sarah, still sitting on the brown leather love seat, stood up and made her way slowly towards the dreamy woman she saw on the phone, out of anxious curiosity. The familiar odor of vanilla bubble bath, from a favorite franchise store of Sarah’s wafted into the hallway from the bathroom, as she came closer to the opened door.

“Is that a threat Detective Dexter? I don’t think I can remember exactly what happened now! As a matter of fact I can’t recall the way to the courthouse, since I seem to have a bad case of selective amnesia!” She yelled into the phone.

After a moment, wearing a pair of skin tight blue jeans and a black lacy bra, the woman in the apartment came storming out of the room at the end of the hall, and headed down the hallway. Sarah froze in her tracks unsure if she was dreaming or hallucinating and her heart raced like a cliff diver at the moment of the jump. The woman, or aberration, walked passed within inches of Sarah. She recoiled and closed her eyes so tightly, that had her eyes been made of coal, when she opened them there would be diamonds in her sockets. For seconds, or as long as thirty of them, she kept her eyes closed and didn’t dare open them, but when she gained the courage necessary to unclench her eyelids, she stood alone in the hall.

 What is this place? Sarah wondered with only wild guesses in her mind. Either she fell asleep on the couch in the cabin, and now having one colossal dream or she has ingested some sort of hallucinogen in her coffee.  There are evil people in this world that have drugged products for public consumption for their own twisted terroristic purposes.

Turning around to look for the woman who apparently didn’t see her in the hallway, or walked right thru her, or both, Sarah saw the woman sitting on the brown leather couch in the living room of the apartment that Sarah found herself on minutes ago. The strange woman was sitting forward with her head resting in her right palm, holding a silver and black telephone in the left. Her damp, slightly curly brown hair covered the near side of her face and her bare pedicured foot was furiously tapping the floor as her fingers stressfully clawed her hair. When the woman began speaking again to whomever she was so upset with, she bolted up as if standing at attention like a soldier, gave her courage and strength.

Sarah found herself stunned, completely lost and astounded, unsure which way to look or turn, because she was seeing a dead woman from the news story, Michelle Mitchell. If this is a dream, she could wake herself and end this, couldn’t she? Sarah just stood there like she was frozen, completely immobile and trembling like a leaf on a tree in an autumn breeze, ready to tumble towards the ground.  Watching, listening and wondering what reason she was seeing or dreaming this conversation, it seemed she might faint at any moment.

 “I fear for my god dammed safety every day since my agreement to testify on this asshole who killed Kim went on the nightly news and the newspapers on Sunday! “ she said angrily and paused again waiting for a response.

It was plainly clear that the woman could not see Sarah standing there watching and listening to her. She was still confused, but intended to figure out what was happening.

“Your Budget? Are you fucking kidding me? Your BUDGET is the reason you can’t protect me from people who want to silence me?  I’m telling you I have seen the same guy at the store, at the restaurant I went to on Thursday, and happened to be looking at my mailbox yesterday, and I can’t get any protection because your budget says the department can’t afford to spare an officer and a hotel room some fucking where!?“ The mystery woman ranted. 

There was a moment of silence from her, as a solitary tear slid down her creamy cheek before she spoke again. “Fuck you very much!” She shouted and she removed the phone from her ear, looked at the button side of the cordless sliver phone, and pressed the “END” button extremely hard, and threw the receiver into the couch cushion. The phone turned into a silver horizontal streak in the air from the bounce and landed 10 feet away on the Persian style rug in the center of the room.

 Sarah involuntarily flinched from the flying phone, feeling a little silly after realizing if the woman couldn’t see her in the room, the phone probably wouldn’t strike her anyway, even if it had come closer to her.  Looking in the direction of the phone laying unbroken on the carpet, she had noticed that every window drapery, blind and shade was pulled tightly closed. It made her wonder what time of day it was and where she was. Was she somehow teleported to Salt Lake City? That’s impossible, and time travel isn’t possible, except in movies.

Sarah saw the woman almost running directly towards her, just as she expected her to bump in to her, and knock her over she saw a flash of the brightest light she had ever seen. The white light was so blinding, it was sure to leave a retina burn in her vision.  Her reflex was to bring her arms in front of her like she was protecting her face from an attack. Both of her fists balled up just above her head and elbows spread at shoulder width, lowering her head and bending her back slightly forward. Her right knee bent and elevated just inches below her elbows until she had reached almost a fetal position while standing. When there was no impact or collision she opened her eyes, to find herself lying on the floor in front of the loud sofa in her cabin in Aspen, very confused.