Post by sillyslackerdude on Jan 2, 2023 10:24:43 GMT -5
A short story I wrote for my library's public writing club. I feel like it's not quite finished but a part of me thinks perhaps I should just leave it as is. Please let me know what you think!
----
Don't Look
Lorraine woke to alarm clock blaring. Even before opening her eyes, she knew he was standing in the darkest corner of the room, staring at her. Same as the past six months.
She could hear the faint dripping of creek water against the carpet in small soft thuds. Feel the damp coldness radiating from him which always gave her a bone deep chill. See the glasses hanging crooked on his face, lenses too thick to make out eyes she knew were watching her.
Always there. Out of the corner of her eye. Faint reflection in the bathroom mirror. Shadow cast next to hers as she sat on the couch in front of the open window during the evening.
It was all she could do to ignore him even after all this time. The thought of acknowledging him was too unthinkable. Too unbearable. Too painful.
So here they were, observer and object, in her cheap little motel room on the edge of town.
She got up from bed. It was routine after so much practice. Change into waitressing uniform. Pour a cup of coffee. Watch the morning weatherman talk about the sunny day ahead on the blurry screen.
All with a silent spectator that was never far. Somehow at the edge of her vision yet always perfectly still. Her very own garden statue perched by the motel mini fridge.
She pulled on her coat walking out the door, catching a faint glance of him by the kitchenette sink. She didn't need to look while locking up to know that he was already standing in the hallway beside her.
Or that he was standing by while she waited for the morning bus. Sitting in the only available seat as she got on. Staring.
Lorraine tried to hum a little tune to herself. Another part of the daily routine. Another distraction. She was thankful when the bus reached the diner. The tune had started to turn into a familiar lullaby without her meaning for it to.
She greeted all her coworkers as she entered through the front door. Tried a bit too hard to be cheerful. Anything so they wouldn't notice that she was trying so desperately hard not to notice someone no one else could see.
They were polite enough in return. She was a pleasant face -albeit an increasingly pale one- that they worked with a few hours a day and nothing more. Any attempt to know her better stopped several months ago. She had finally accepted their offer to join an impromptu outing to the local bar after work. Ten minutes after sitting down she abruptly announced her need to leave.
She blamed it on a sudden case of food poisoning. They said they understood. Murmured behind her back about an alcohol addiction or the fear of relapse. The truth was shehad seen a familiar reflection standing far back between the restrooms on the mirrored wall behind the counter.
Shame. They weren't too far off the mark about a relapse. She really could have used a drink. Or two. Or two dozen.
Now she flitted around the diner. Warm greeting to a regular family of customers here. Hearty laugh at a truckers distasteful joke there. A quick discussion with her fellow waitresses about the weather between unimportant gossip.
A stage performer with a whole audience but only one intent viewer she wanted to impress.
She served the family who came once a week for brunch. They sat at their usual seat in the corner booth. Mom, dad, and little boy. Today he had brought a friend.
One of his preschool playmates, she thought. How nice.
She saved the son's order for last. Made a big show of listing off what he wanted with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She always tried to be extra bright for children, thought that's what all kids needed, a big smile. No matter how fake it was. Then she asked what his quiet friend would like.
He didn't look up from his complimentary glass of chocolate milk as he asked her what friend.
Lorraine started again but noticed the parents confused looks. That was when realization sunk in. In the rush of dealing with the afternoon crowd, she had mistaken him for a guest.
Of course, how could she not?
Large glasses obscured the upper half of his face but couldn't hide the round chubby cheeks all small children grow out of.
All but him.
Now it was her turn as statue while people bustled around her.
What now?
She could have mumbled an apology. That she must have taken a reflection in the window for another customer. Instead she was off before anything could be said.
Slapping the order in the cook's hand before ducking through the back out to the alley. Air wouldn't come fast enough as she tried her best to breathe calmly. It was starting to rain.
Of course it was. It would end up raining despite what the weatherman had said. She knew better than anyone that you couldn't count on the weather being what you thought it would be.
She held onto the side of a garbage can to steady herself. There he was waiting next to it. Why wouldn't he be?
Her gaze kept low towards the pavement. His untied sneaker laces in her peripheral. He never had much luck learning to tie them.
What do you want? Her mind screamed. Why can't you leave me alone?
She wanted nothing more than to face him, yell at the top of her lungs, demand an explanation.
She never looked up until the manager barged out yelling about how she had missed the rest of her shift.
Later, after a jumble of flimsy lies, an extra hour of unpaid overtime, and the very loud threat of being fired, she was on the late bus back to the motel, her constant companion the only other passenger.
Standing in the rain for so long had left her soaking cold, even all this time later. Her coat did nothing to warm her. It was no different than trying to bundle under the covers at night.
Her nose started to clog. Mucous ran down the back of her throat. She had to take deep breaths to get the littlest bit of oxygen. She wondered if this is how he felt that day.
The rain had turned into a downpour as Lorraine was dropped off. Cold water leaking into her shoes. If anyone else could have seen them, she was sure they would say they were quite the matching pair.
She didn't bother to lock up or turn on the lights once she got to her room. Eyes were clenched tight as she shucked off clothes crossing to bed, crawling under the covers once only in her underwear. She knew there was no privacy but she would be damned if she couldn't at least try to pretend under the covers.
Memories flooded her mind of when she was a little girl trying to hide in the dark before any imagined ghosts could spot her.
Too late for that, she thought bitterly.
After what felt like an eternity she risked a peek to see if she could catch the faintest hint that he was there with her.
She knew he was, he had to be. But the one thing that scared her more than having to acknowledge he was there was the possibility he was gone for good. In the strangest way she had gotten accustomed to his constant presence.
There was a glow at the edge of her vision. Had he been glowing before? She hadn't thought so. She tried too hard to not notice if he could glow.
But it wasn't him. It was the TV on the stand in the corner. Had she forgotten to turn it off before leaving? She was sure going to regret that once bill time came. The mundane thought given the current situation almost made her giggle.
The TV was mute, still on the news. A segment began. The blurriness seemed to fade as the picture came in more clear than it had since moving in.
The headline at the bottom was about a small town being flooded by the unplanned storm.
Footage changed from half submerged suburbs to a car on a bridge being pushed against the guard rails by rushing water.
"No," She whispered, unable to look away.
Finally the guardrail couldn't take the torrential force of the nonstop waves anymore. The railing bent like wet cardboard as the car flipped over it. Disappeared under the dark current after splashing on the other side. As if never existing in the first place.
"NO!" Lorraine tossed the covers off as she screamed, jolting up from her spot.
There he was standing at the foot of the because.
Because where else would he be?
That was how, for the first time in half a year, Lorraine finally faced the son she had left to die.
----
Don't Look
Lorraine woke to alarm clock blaring. Even before opening her eyes, she knew he was standing in the darkest corner of the room, staring at her. Same as the past six months.
She could hear the faint dripping of creek water against the carpet in small soft thuds. Feel the damp coldness radiating from him which always gave her a bone deep chill. See the glasses hanging crooked on his face, lenses too thick to make out eyes she knew were watching her.
Always there. Out of the corner of her eye. Faint reflection in the bathroom mirror. Shadow cast next to hers as she sat on the couch in front of the open window during the evening.
It was all she could do to ignore him even after all this time. The thought of acknowledging him was too unthinkable. Too unbearable. Too painful.
So here they were, observer and object, in her cheap little motel room on the edge of town.
She got up from bed. It was routine after so much practice. Change into waitressing uniform. Pour a cup of coffee. Watch the morning weatherman talk about the sunny day ahead on the blurry screen.
All with a silent spectator that was never far. Somehow at the edge of her vision yet always perfectly still. Her very own garden statue perched by the motel mini fridge.
She pulled on her coat walking out the door, catching a faint glance of him by the kitchenette sink. She didn't need to look while locking up to know that he was already standing in the hallway beside her.
Or that he was standing by while she waited for the morning bus. Sitting in the only available seat as she got on. Staring.
Lorraine tried to hum a little tune to herself. Another part of the daily routine. Another distraction. She was thankful when the bus reached the diner. The tune had started to turn into a familiar lullaby without her meaning for it to.
She greeted all her coworkers as she entered through the front door. Tried a bit too hard to be cheerful. Anything so they wouldn't notice that she was trying so desperately hard not to notice someone no one else could see.
They were polite enough in return. She was a pleasant face -albeit an increasingly pale one- that they worked with a few hours a day and nothing more. Any attempt to know her better stopped several months ago. She had finally accepted their offer to join an impromptu outing to the local bar after work. Ten minutes after sitting down she abruptly announced her need to leave.
She blamed it on a sudden case of food poisoning. They said they understood. Murmured behind her back about an alcohol addiction or the fear of relapse. The truth was shehad seen a familiar reflection standing far back between the restrooms on the mirrored wall behind the counter.
Shame. They weren't too far off the mark about a relapse. She really could have used a drink. Or two. Or two dozen.
Now she flitted around the diner. Warm greeting to a regular family of customers here. Hearty laugh at a truckers distasteful joke there. A quick discussion with her fellow waitresses about the weather between unimportant gossip.
A stage performer with a whole audience but only one intent viewer she wanted to impress.
She served the family who came once a week for brunch. They sat at their usual seat in the corner booth. Mom, dad, and little boy. Today he had brought a friend.
One of his preschool playmates, she thought. How nice.
She saved the son's order for last. Made a big show of listing off what he wanted with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She always tried to be extra bright for children, thought that's what all kids needed, a big smile. No matter how fake it was. Then she asked what his quiet friend would like.
He didn't look up from his complimentary glass of chocolate milk as he asked her what friend.
Lorraine started again but noticed the parents confused looks. That was when realization sunk in. In the rush of dealing with the afternoon crowd, she had mistaken him for a guest.
Of course, how could she not?
Large glasses obscured the upper half of his face but couldn't hide the round chubby cheeks all small children grow out of.
All but him.
Now it was her turn as statue while people bustled around her.
What now?
She could have mumbled an apology. That she must have taken a reflection in the window for another customer. Instead she was off before anything could be said.
Slapping the order in the cook's hand before ducking through the back out to the alley. Air wouldn't come fast enough as she tried her best to breathe calmly. It was starting to rain.
Of course it was. It would end up raining despite what the weatherman had said. She knew better than anyone that you couldn't count on the weather being what you thought it would be.
She held onto the side of a garbage can to steady herself. There he was waiting next to it. Why wouldn't he be?
Her gaze kept low towards the pavement. His untied sneaker laces in her peripheral. He never had much luck learning to tie them.
What do you want? Her mind screamed. Why can't you leave me alone?
She wanted nothing more than to face him, yell at the top of her lungs, demand an explanation.
She never looked up until the manager barged out yelling about how she had missed the rest of her shift.
Later, after a jumble of flimsy lies, an extra hour of unpaid overtime, and the very loud threat of being fired, she was on the late bus back to the motel, her constant companion the only other passenger.
Standing in the rain for so long had left her soaking cold, even all this time later. Her coat did nothing to warm her. It was no different than trying to bundle under the covers at night.
Her nose started to clog. Mucous ran down the back of her throat. She had to take deep breaths to get the littlest bit of oxygen. She wondered if this is how he felt that day.
The rain had turned into a downpour as Lorraine was dropped off. Cold water leaking into her shoes. If anyone else could have seen them, she was sure they would say they were quite the matching pair.
She didn't bother to lock up or turn on the lights once she got to her room. Eyes were clenched tight as she shucked off clothes crossing to bed, crawling under the covers once only in her underwear. She knew there was no privacy but she would be damned if she couldn't at least try to pretend under the covers.
Memories flooded her mind of when she was a little girl trying to hide in the dark before any imagined ghosts could spot her.
Too late for that, she thought bitterly.
After what felt like an eternity she risked a peek to see if she could catch the faintest hint that he was there with her.
She knew he was, he had to be. But the one thing that scared her more than having to acknowledge he was there was the possibility he was gone for good. In the strangest way she had gotten accustomed to his constant presence.
There was a glow at the edge of her vision. Had he been glowing before? She hadn't thought so. She tried too hard to not notice if he could glow.
But it wasn't him. It was the TV on the stand in the corner. Had she forgotten to turn it off before leaving? She was sure going to regret that once bill time came. The mundane thought given the current situation almost made her giggle.
The TV was mute, still on the news. A segment began. The blurriness seemed to fade as the picture came in more clear than it had since moving in.
The headline at the bottom was about a small town being flooded by the unplanned storm.
Footage changed from half submerged suburbs to a car on a bridge being pushed against the guard rails by rushing water.
"No," She whispered, unable to look away.
Finally the guardrail couldn't take the torrential force of the nonstop waves anymore. The railing bent like wet cardboard as the car flipped over it. Disappeared under the dark current after splashing on the other side. As if never existing in the first place.
"NO!" Lorraine tossed the covers off as she screamed, jolting up from her spot.
There he was standing at the foot of the because.
Because where else would he be?
That was how, for the first time in half a year, Lorraine finally faced the son she had left to die.