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| untitled | |
| By brook_rivers | ||||||||||||
| 14 March 2008 | ||||||||||||
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Inspired by the film 'The Others'. My first attempt at ghost writing/paranormal genre. ‘1.15’ - The clock read as I hazily turned around in the warm nest I hade made in my bed covers. I sighed, turning away from the clock that was now glaring at me accusingly, and buried myself further under the covers. I was meant to be getting up at a reasonable hour today, to do some studying, but it was now 1.15 in the afternoon and seemed as though it was going to be another unproductive, wasted day. I sluggishly heaved myself up onto my elbows to peer over the top of my covers. There was a gap at the top of the curtains and I could see the pale sunlight glimmering through into my dark, den of a bedroom. Collapsing back down onto the bed I hugged myself in the covers and thought great, its not like I can even use the excuse that it was a crap day and raining outside, because it clearly wasn’t. I lay a little while longer, letting the last dreamy thoughts run through my head. Traces of sleep still stuck my eyes together, which without any form of visual aid were unfocused and blurry, trying to make out the objects in the room. I could just see a shadowy outline of myself in the mirror, my hair was very dishevelled having escaped the scrunchie I had tied it up with the night before. My face, devoid of make-up, was pale. I wondered why I hadn’t been blessed as the sort of girl who could emerge from the night’s pillows looking refreshed. Maybe I could pretend I was ill and spend a very lazy Sunday afternoon in bed. But no, reason got the better of me; I had too much work to do. I lethargically swung my legs out from the soft shell of my covers and picked my way out of my room. A cold shower and fresh set of clothes soon woke me up. I pottered round the kitchen making myself a strong cup of coffee and realised that nobody else was about. I was in shared student accommodation and there was normally music blaring, or the sound of the TV, or laughter; but all was deadly quiet. Cursing myself I guessed that everyone else had most likely gone to the pub for a Sunday roast, and would probably stay there all afternoon. Oh well, more opportunity to do some work I suppose. Opening the cupboards I could see food was sparse. Not fancying yet another round of toast and marmite I decided to trudge to the corner shop and pick up some supplies to keep me going throughout the utterly boring afternoon I was facing. Strolling along the road I formed a study plan in my mind and as I neared the shop I remembered that recently the Wispa bar had been relaunched. It was my favourite chocolate bar as a kid so I walked a little faster, eager to see if there was any in stock at the shop yet. Greedily searching the rows upon rows of brightly wrapped chocolate I was delighted to find that the dingy old shop had indeed stocked up on the Wispa bar. I chuckled thinking that they had probably been here since the last time Wispa was a popular treat. Approaching the counter I realised no one was serving, sometimes if it was quiet the little old man, Malcolm, would be sat out the back, listening to the sport on the radio. I peered my head round the counter and could see no one. I waited for a bit and then tapped on the peeling green counter. Still no answer, I wrapped a bit harder on the counter and still no response. Not wanting to spend all day in the shop I estimated the amount my shopping came to and then deposited some money on top of the till, hoping that the beady camera set in one corner of the wall wouldn’t mistake me for a thief. Walking back to my house I suddenly stopped dead in my tracks. Everything was quiet. Eerily quiet actually. No sound of cars near by, not even a bird in the sky or a neighbour washing their car. Even on a Sunday this part of town was lively. But now it seemed like a ghost town. I contemplated the thought that maybe my hearing was getting as bad as my sight, and then realised what an ‘old woman’ comment that was. Perplexed I walked home as quickly as possible, feeling slightly unnerved by the apparent lack of activity. Dumping my food on the kitchen worktop I discovered that I wasn’t actually hungry after all. Partly to find a distraction and partly to reassure myself I decided to call one of my housemates to see where they had got to. Picking up the phone in the hall the dial tone was dead. Strange. I went back into my room and fished my mobile out from amidst the stack of books on my desk. I attempted to call on this too with the same result, or should I say no result. Very Strange. Trying to think logically I decided a cable must be down, or something along those lines. I flicked on the TV, it was fuzzy on every channel. I then tried the lights, which were working. Thinking it best not to think anything of this lack of Technologies, and deciding this was definitely a sign to do some work, I went and settled myself at my desk. Facing the open window I opened my notebook and started my work. Three hours later I had actually accomplished some substantial study, and so decided to have a break. Still not hungry, and with no one as yet back at the house I pondered on what to do next. Once again I became aware of the complete and utter silence surrounding me. I switched on the radio but that evidently was not working either. Disappointed at the prospect of an uneventful weekend and with the majority of work I had needed to do now complete, I resolved to go down to our local pub and see who was about. I thought it was best to change out of my old trakkie bottoms and my big warm jumper into more respectable attire. After choosing my black jeans and purple top, and straightening my hair I was ready to go. By now it was about half past five and the night sky was beginning to grow dark. The air was fresh and still, but still had a sting of iciness in it. I couldn’t be bothered to reopen the door to get my coat and gloves, as the pub was literally just round the corner so I walked briskly. I sent a text to one of my housemates to see where she was and then stuffed the phone back into my bag so that I could warm my fingers in my pockets. I arrived at the pub and a wave of panic engulfed me. I swung through the heavy wooden doors and found that I was still alone. There was no one there. By no one I don’t mean that I couldn’t see anyone I knew, but literally the place was empty. I looked around in utter disbelief. At this time on a Sunday evening the place was usually pretty full and you were lucky to get a table to sit at. But now the pub was without the delicious smells of Sunday dinner, without the laughter and chatter of its customers and without any signs of life whatsoever. I wandered round the pub looking for any sort of indications to help me figure out what was happening. I called out several times hoping that the landlord might come out from behind the stillness of the bar and tell me not to worry they couldn’t open up today, there had been a flood upstairs. Or something along those lines. It felt very eerie being here all alone so I decided just to go back home. I had thought about going down to the high street, but in the dark, knowing that something was not right, this was not the most appealing of ideas. By now I was quite worried; there was still nobody at home. I tried several times to ring my parents but the phone line was still dead and my mobile didn’t want to work. I realised that the message I had tried to send to my housemate, had not in fact sent but was still in the ‘drafts’ box. It seemed not to have any signal anywhere in the house. So I turned on the computer to see if I could get hold of someone on msn or Facebook. Trying to assure myself that this was all just one big coincidence, and any minute now the doubts in my mind would be dispelled. The internet was down. This was all just too freaky. I had no idea what to do, and my mind was racing. May be there had been a mass evacuation and I had been left behind to face whatever threat there was. May be the population of the town had been wiped out and I was the only survivor. May be I was imagining all this. May be this was just a vivid dream. May be I was stressed out and my mind was playing tricks on me. I could feel myself getting worked up as all these thoughts invaded my brain at once. As my emotions bubbled up I couldn’t help but shed a few tears of uncertainty. In the end all I could do was go to sleep, hoping to wake up in the morning and find everything as normal. My eyes feel heavy as I wake up. They feel puffy, as though I have been crying. I strain in my short-sightedness to see the time on my clock. 1.15. I have a sudden rush of déjà vu and the unusual events of yesterday come flooding back to me. I stretch and yawn and berate myself for over sleeping again. In moments I am fully awake, up and out of bed, and searching the house for my friends. I run frantically from room to room wanting to see a familiar face. There is no one. I try the TV, the phones, the radio and the computer all over again and still nothing is working. In a frenzy I dress quickly and run round to knock on the neighbours door, no answer. I try the house the other side of ours too. No answer. Perhaps they are just out I think, at work, that’s the reasonable explanation. The next obvious thing to do is to go into uni. I make the short walk there, seeing nobody. It’s Monday, this is impossible. I know that when I arrive on campus I am still going to be alone. I am right. Just to make sure this is not some fantasy I jog down to the high street, by now I am actually praying to see someone, anyone. The high street is dead. It is like a phantom town. No people at all. No one serving in the shops, no one buying in the shops. The silence is unbearable; I think I could go mad from this silence alone. I walk back home wondering what an earth has happened. I am scared very scared. I don’t know what to do. I glance at every door and every window but there is nothing. It is like I am in a model village or something. All the equipment for everyday life is here, but all the people have been removed. I sit on the stairs and cry, and cry, and cry. I cry until I feel I can not cry any longer. I then make a plan. I decide to go into town, to the train station, to the ferry port, to knock on every door I can until I discover what on earth is going on. It is too late in the day to do it now, I don’t want to be out on my own at night, because I really would be all on my own. I go to bed again, it is all I can do. 1.15 the clock reads. Again. Immediately coming to my senses my first thought is what the hell is this? Ground hog day? I had loved that film when I was younger, and so had my Dad. Me and my Dad always sat and watched movies together when I was younger. In the evenings it had just been me and him, because my Mum worked nights and my baby brother was in bed. We sat and watched films and TV, and he would always let me stay up late, until the end of the movie or show. This recollection sent me into another stream of tears as the need to hear my parents reassurance that everything was o.k, became stronger. I set out to complete my plan. The buses weren’t working and I had no idea how to break into and start a car so I had to walk. I made sure I took something to protect me. I had put the big kitchen knife in my bag. I hated the sight of that knife, and had said on many occasions that I did not feel comfortable with such a knife being in the kitchen draw, but I felt it necessary to take it with me. Just in case. My efforts were fruitless. Over a period of days I scoured everywhere I could with no results. Everyday I awoke at 1.15 to ominous silence, and everyday I felt more and more petrified about the situation. I was running out of ideas. I was becoming more and more nervous and emotional. On Sunday, after a week of feeling like the only person in the world, I decided to stay at home. All I could do to pass the time was read books, but I was too exhausted and confused to go out searching today. I thought about different modes of action: Trying to get a radio to work; trying to get a car to start and driving to my parent’s house; breaking into houses to look for clues. I was sat at the kitchen table, examining my thoughts when I thought I heard the faint sound of laughter. I was sure that it was my housemate and hopefully jumped up and ran into the hall way, expecting to see her there. I must have imagined it. A few hours later I heard a door slam. Then later on I was sure that a car revved outside. I wasn’t sure what to make of all this and went to bed perplexed. The next day these ghostly sounds became more frequent, I could hear music being played, cutlery clattering in the kitchen, running water in the bathroom. I was thankful that the awful silence had been broken, but the everyday noises were unsettling. I stopped going out searching and instead stayed in the house monitoring the sounds, hoping to find the meaning behind this. That evening I was again sat in the kitchen, book in hand when I heard the door slam. I went to investigate to find that the door to the kitchen, which had previously been shut, was now wide open. As I turned, puzzling upon this matter, my eye caught the kitchen top where a blue bowl was now standing. It hadn’t been there before. It seemed to sit there challenging me, daring me to ask it how it had moved. I walked towards it only to see it shift slightly to the left, as if trying to avoid my clutches. I flailed at the air all around it. In a second the little blue bowl was shattered, in pieces at my feet. I stared at it. The noise of the breakage echoing around me. Then I blinked and blinked again. I saw the faint outline of my housemate standing by the wreckage of the blue bowl. I gasped and took a step back. I looked again and could see the shadowy outline once again. She was animatedly talking, her hands waving about in all directions, but I could not hear what she was saying. I stepped towards this apparition, arms outstretched, but I did not come into contact with a tangible person. I was not acknowledge or recognised either. I could see her, but she clearly couldn’t see me. It was if I simply didn’t exist.
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