My First Story

Linda G Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday Prompt: First Thing

First thing I saw when I opened the door was the small dark room lit by one window covered with spiderwebs and dust.

The pale yellow light struggling through the window did nothing to drive the shadows away from the aged  books on the shelves that lined the walls.

The  floor was littered with more books but like the books on the shelves,  some of the covers were faded, others looked brand new. Some of the volumes spines had been broken with care,  and others with unbridled enthusiasm.

Who read these books, I wondered, who put them on the shelves? Who left them on the floors and piled in the corners?

I reached down and I picked one up, I opened it and turned the pages slowly one by one.

The pages were blank.

I walked into the room and set it on a table.

I went to the shelves and I took down one book after another and turned the pages and found that they were blank too.

I was about to drop the last book I had pulled down on the floor and instead I put it back where I had found it.

This small dark room I had wandered into  was full of books covered with dust, discarded, abandoned, forgotten and left to rot where they fell or where they were left.

There was an old chair next to the table, I pulled it back and carefully sat down. It creaked a little but it held.

I pulled one of the books towards me, I opened it’s cover and I turned one page and then another. It didn’t smell musty, it didn’t look moldy, so

I reached for a pen- one of a dozen or so  scattered around the table and I thought about what to write and then it came to me:

It was just me, all alone in a dark room full of dust and spider webs and books waiting to be written.

So I wrote,

The last thing I heard, before I started to write was the sounds of creaking boards and a gentle breeze making it’s way through a small dusty window filled with sunlightt

The Dream

RDP SATURDAY: FRINGE

 

There is a town, not far from where I live

where the residents have  names like Green and Smith and

Workenstein  and dogs name Champ and cats named Mittens and each family had

five kids who are exactly 2 years apart from each other in age.

 

In this town, not far from where I live, the people who live there  all  go  to church on

Sundays and the kids are never late for school. The boys can  pop wheelies on their

bikes and all of the little girls had easy bake ovens and on Fridays everyone  goes to the

drive in movies.

 

One day I drove  through this town, not far from where I live and decided to stop for gas.

 

I got out  of my jeep to stretch my  legs when a woman appeared behind me with her dog.

She looked at me and tried to smile at least three times.

 

” Where are  you from? ” she finally spat out.

 

Her dog wagged it’s tail and she pulled on it’s leash and told it to be still.

” Up the road. ” I said.

” Up the road? ”

” Yes ” I told her  ” up the road. ”

 

” Are you going back there? ”

I told her I would, eventually.

 

” Do you think more people like you will come from up the road? ”

” I’m pretty sure they will. ”

” Do you think they will go back, too?”

 

” No I told her. I don’t think they will. ”

 

She forced her frown up into a smile.  She pulled her dog away from me she walked back to the street and then she was gone.

 

I bought my gas, I drove through the town back to the highway and as I drove down one street and then another, I passed by identical  white houses and in front of each house there was  a dad in a green or gray cardigan sweater  watering  his  lawn and on each street boys were popping wheelies on their bikes and little  girls sat primly on swings eating their easy bake oven treats.

Each of them grimaced forced smiles at me…

and then they turned to dust, the way most dreams do just before you wake up.

 

Not far from where I live is a town where nobody has actually lived  and nobody really exists.

 

The Monster on Washington Street

I saw a monster

on my way home from work yesterday.

It was standing by the boarded up pizza place

with it’s hands buried in it’s pockets

I tried to not look at it

as I walked by

I tried to pretend it wasn’t there

but that was a lie

and we both knew it.

 

” Want some pizza? ” it said.

I didn’t shake my head, I didn’t slow down, I just kept walking.

” I can get you some pizza, if you want it. ”

I was almost past  the monster just a few more steps and I would never see it again

Just keep going, I told myself.

 

” Hey Anita, want some pizza? ”

It knew my name.

The hairs on my neck stood up, my spine stiffened.

My lip curled above my teeth.

” Come back here. I’ll get you some pizza and then I’ll snap your neck. Got that? I’ll get you some pizza and then I’ll-”

I stopped. I turned around. It had threatened to snap my neck.

My neck

 

The monster looked at me.

The hairs on it’s neck stood up, it’s spine stiffened, it’s lip curled over it’s teeth.

” Get away from me. ” It said. ” Get away from me.”

I pulled my hand out of my pocket and as I did I flexed my fingers and one by one  my long sharp razor claws broke to the surface.

” I can get my own pizza. ” I said as I drove my thumbnails into each of  the monster’s eyes. ” I can get my own damn pizza. ”

 

There’s a monster on Washington Street, its turns the same corner everyday.

Stay away from  it.

Don’t talk it, don’t bother it.

Just let it walk on by.

And whatever you do, if you are going to offer it pizza- you better not be playing around.