TAG - Part 8

She saw the anxiety in my eyes.  I could not have hidden it even if I had tried. 

“I think I should go,” I said, and started to stand.

“Allison”, she said calmly.  “Please try to relax, and I know that is hard.  Just give me 5 minutes and then you can go – but I think after that, you will want to stay.”  Her bright blue eyes were piercing and captivating. 

“Five minutes,” I agreed.  “But how do you know him?” I asked as I pointed to the photo of the little boy who had changed my life in an instant and then disappeared.

“First things first,” she said in a soothing voice and with a smile.  There was indeed something comforting about her, I could not deny that.  “My name is Des.  Short for Desdemona – my mom was a big Shakespeare buff.  Des Valentine.  Nice to meet you.”  She extended her hand, and I reluctantly, I shook it with my gloved hand. 

“OK, so now that we know each other, let’s get to it.  Allison, I have been running this store for 7 years.  Look around.  It is not busy – it rarely is.  Oh I get walk ins, I sell books and chotchkies over the internet.  I get by.  But my real reason for being here is to help people like you.  People who have had something weird happen to them, something scary or paranormal.  Something they can’t understand, much less explain.”  She paused, stood up and got herself a diet coke,  sat back down, and continued.

“What’s weird is that people who need me never ever know they do.  They just randomly stumble upon me, wander into my shop.  Or so they think”, she said with a wry smile on her face.  “The thing is, none of it is random.  We are all connected, each and every one of us.  Some of us see those connections and some of us don’t.  Me, I see them most of the time.  Not always, but when I do, it’s very visual.  When I say see, I mean it literally.  I see these shiny sort of shimmery lines.  Hard to explain, but it is how I know when something – or someone – is coming.”

She stopped and looked at me quizzically.  It felt like she was studying me, almost seeing me for the first time.  She looked at my face, my hair, and then finally my eyes.  Her gaze was so intense it felt like she was staring into my soul.  It should have been uncomfortable, yet it was not. 

“Any questions so far?”

I shook my head. 

“Then I will keep going.  So ok.”

She went on for another five or ten minutes.  She told me about her “gift” and how she discovered it.  She thinks she got it when she was little and had fallen from the steps in her front yard, hitting her head on a rock.  She had been declared DOA, then had suddenly awoken having seen things that she lacked the language skills to describe at the time.  As she talked, she sat most of the time, but occasionally stood up and talked as if she wasn’t telling her story only to me as she gazed at the ceiling.

She continued, describing situation after situation where people came to her in troubled and afraid, and how she had helped them.  How sometimes it the fix was fast, but sometimes it took a long time.  She told me of a woman who came in sad because she had lost her cat – and then with the guidance of Des, found it within a week.  She spoke of the many people who lose things of little monetary value, but tremendous sentimental value – and of how happy they are when they find these items.  Lost children were the most emotionally challenging to deal with, she told me.  It sounded ludicrous, yet I was fully intrigued and found her compelling and believable.  I wanted to know more, so I sat there, eyes wide and leaning in. 

Ten minutes had past, but I sat glued to my seat.  Then another ten, and another.  More diet cokes were opened and finished.  I asked her questions and she answered everything without hesitation.  She spoke of everything from ghosts and hauntings to missing cash stockpiled in old money bags buried under porches. 

Then, the conversation stared to slow down and it seemed like there was nothing left to hear.  Silence filled the small room.  I felt a sense of waiting, as though a decision needed to be made – but by who, Des or me? 

“So everyone, every person who comes here for help,” I began, “You are saying they never walk in saying ‘Oh, Desdemona, thank goodness I found you, I need you to help me find my dead grandfathers buried fortune’, but instead just think they are here to do a little shopping?”

“Mostly, yes,” she explained. “I mean there have been one or two exceptions… But in general, they honestly don’t know they need me.  They just follow the string to me, and never even see the string,” she said as she looked at me.  “Did you see the string?”

I closed my eyes and tried to imagine a magical string as she had described.  A mystical connection, glowing or silvery or glittery.  But nothing.  Again I shook my head as I opened my eyes.

“No, I just got off the bus and happened to look up and see your sign.”

She smiled, that gentle and comforting smile.  “That’s what they all say.  But it is never random, Allison.  I always know when they are coming,” she whispered as if sharing with me the secrets of the universe.  “Sometimes it is a dream, sometimes a voice in my head,” she continued, “Sometimes the message is clear and strong, but other times it is like a whisper from another room.  And sometimes….”

“Sometimes?” I repeated, wondering if she was pausing for dramatic effect.  It was working.

“Sometimes it is a message from someone I don’t know, a voice from somewhere…else.”

She seemed worried at that last one.  As if it had not always been a good message or had not always come from a good place.  Then there was silence for a solid minute. 

“So how did you know I was coming?” I asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

She pointed to the photo of the boy and said.  “He told me.”

Again, those icy fingers wrapped themselves around my shoulders, as I shuddered.

END TAG PART 8

TAG - Part 7

The hairs on my arms rose in an instant, and I felt a chill run through my body.  In one dizzying moment, I felt as if the air rushed out of my lungs and as though time stood still.  I immediately knew where I was and that I was supposed to be there.  I knew her.  I had never met her, but I knew in my gut that she was very significant, and in some way, key to my whole nightmare.  I wanted to move, to step closer to her…but icy hands held my feet down.  I could not walk, I could not move.  I could only slowly turn towards her, and raised my eyes to meet her gaze.  

Based on the creepiness of the shop and how unusual I felt, I half expected her to look demonic.  At a minimum, I expected her to look as I would imagine a modern Wiccan woman, with long, flowing, black clothes and lots of crystal necklaces.  But no, there was nothing witchy or even slightly bohemian about her.  In fact, she looked as though she had been plucked from an Iowa corn field and dropped erroneously in this downtown, hipster shop.  Her bright blue eyes and blonde hair that she wore in a high, cheerleaderish ponytail threw me.  Her slight frame and slender body was not draped in a cloak, but instead in stylish jeggings, boots and a bright yellow tank top.  She seemed to be about my age. She looked like no one I knew, yet I could not shake the feeling that I knew her, and knew her very well.

She came over to me quickly, and offered me a warm hug.  I stepped back, knowing that I was now cursed, and she could not make contact with me at all.  I bumped into a display, knocking things off the shelves and onto the floor.  

“No!”, I shouted as I pulled away instinctively.  “Don’t come near me.  For your own safety.”  She stopped trying to hug me, but still stayed close and faced me.  She looked right into my eyes.

“Allison, I know why you are here.  And don’t worry.  I am safe around you.  I am protected.”  On cue, she pulled a long chain from around her neck that had been hidden under her tank top.  From it dangled a tiny, clear bobble pendant which appeared to contain dirt.  

My eyes went from the pendant back to her eyes.  Her cool, calm, cornflower blue eyes that looked like clear skies.  My eyes must have held the anxieties and fears within me, and they clearly betrayed my feelings to her because when she looked into them, her expression changed.  What at first was a bright confidence became a sadness and what also looked like worry.  Against my will, she took my hand.  As I watched, I realized she was safe anyway – I had forgotten about the protective gloves I was wearing.

“Allison, it is alright.  It is going to be alright”.  Her tone was soothing.  I believed her.  I let her take my gloved hand, and lead me to the back of the shop.  Behind the register was a small room that she apparently used as an office. It held a few shelves, boxes of inventory, a small desk, a chair and a small futon couch.  It was decorated with brightly colored beads, angel charms, and what appeared to be Buddhist-type sayings in frames, which read things like “To awaken, sit calmly and breathe” and “The mind contains all possibilities”.  She gestured to the couch.  I sat down. 

“Can I get you anything?”  She moved to a mini-fridge that was under the boxes, and opened it to explore the contents.  “I have Red Bull, Diet Coke, and…. Let’s see… a close to being expired yogurt.” 

“I half expected you to offer me some weird herbal tea or something”, I joked.  Luckily she laughed back. 

“I know.  This shop has a certain stereotypical vibe, right?”  She smiled at me.  I smiled back and noticed I had stared to relax a bit.  “Um, Diet Coke please?”  She handed me the soda, and sat next to me on the futon.

It was then I noticed it.  In that one moment, it felt like my heart stopped, and icy hands were wrapped around my neck, strangling me.  I could not breathe, regardless of what the Buddhist sign said.  Because there, on the small desk, in a small frame, was a photo of the small boy who had changed my world when he said, “Tag”.

TAG Part 6

TAG Part 6

I drove.  Just drove as fast and far as I could.  I knew it was dangerous.  I knew it was foolish.  But I also knew that I had to get out of that hospital.  I could not stay a prisoner there forever. 

I imagined that poor man with the flowers rushing back to his car only to find it gone.  I did feel bad for him, but I also knew I would return it.  In fact, I realized that I didn’t have much time to use the car.  The owner probably called the police right away.  The police likely arrived and did a preliminary investigation to make sure that the guy hadn’t simply forgotten where he had parked.  That gave me less than 30 minutes, which meant I had to think logically and quickly. 

OK – first step, get far away.  Step 2, do not drive home, that is the first place they will look for me.  Also, they may track my phone, so turn it off for now.  Step 3, ditch car and find a new mode of transportation.  That sounds easier said than done.  Think, Ally…. Think!   I took a deep breath.  Then it hit me.  Thomas.  Thomas can help me.

I drove the car to the furthest point that I could think of that was opposite of Thomas’s house.  I dropped it in a public parking lot at the airport.  I wrote a note using a pen and a napkin I found in the car, “I am really sorry!” and left it on the car seat.  I scoured the car for loose change and was able to scrounge up 2 scrunched up singles, a half a roll of quarters, and 4.63 in assorted change.  11.63 cents wouldn’t get me far.  But for 3.75 I could take the bus that would take me within walking distance to Thomas.  At least I had part one of a plan.  I added to the note, “PS I owe you $11.63”.

Before I could get on the bus, I needed a little preparation.  I ran into the airport and snuck into the convenience store.  It was very crowded, so I was able to go in and out very quickly.  I am not usually a criminal mastermind, but I did watch a lot of TV and read a lot of John Grisham novels.  I figure they key was speed, not being obvious, and acting like you own the place.  I can’t even believe I did this, but I walked over to the clearance winter section of hats and gloves.  I grabbed a hat and put it on, covering my hair and eyebrows.  I wrapped a scarf around my neck.  I put knit gloves on my hands.  I had to be sure I was covering myself to avoid being identified, but more importantly – I had to avoid any physical contact with any person at all.  Gosh, I really felt like Rogue from the X-Men.  I ripped the tags off and stuffed them in my pocket.  I walked out of the store and into the stream of people in the airport main terminal.  And just like that, I was lost in the crowd.  No one noticed me at all. 

I left the airport and hopped on the cross town bus.  I paid with exact change.  I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself.  I sat down and leaned my head against the glass window.  As the bus pulled away, I felt myself starting to relax, to feel sleepy.  I must have nodded off, because I awoke suddenly with a jolt.  A realization popped in my head.  I couldn’t go to Thomas.  I couldn’t put him at risk.  And I realized where I had to go.  I had to go to the place where I saw the boy.  That is my only option.  I had to go home and follow him.  But how do you follow a ghost?  How?  With instinct, that’s how.  I will go where my inner voice tells me to go.  I will follow my instincts.  They have gotten me out of that prison of a hospital. 

I got off the bus at the next stop, and looked around to get my bearings.  I wasn’t familiar with this part of the city – but I knew it was closer to my house than I expected, so that was good news.  I headed south, walking briskly.  Again, my goal was to blend in.  Be invisible.

I looked up at an intersection, when a flashing neon sign caught my eye: “Gypsy Fortune Teller – Open 24 Hrs”.   Gypsies… Fortune tellers… all scam artists as far as I was concerned.  Yet, against my intellect, I headed right for it.  I walked with an intention with which I was unfamiliar – as though I knew all along that this was where I was heading.  Almost autopilot, like morning commuters heading to their jobs when they get off the train.  No thought required, just a direct path.  I walked in, very relieved that they were in fact open.  It smelled of vanilla incense and spices.  As I shut the door behind me, I heard the bells on them indicating a person had come in. 

I walked further into the small, crowed shop, looking at the oddities on the walls and shelves.  Jars of potions in various colors.  Candles in various stages of burn.  Spell books.  Photos on the walls of so many interesting looking things, people in odd dress, ceremonies taking place.  I was so absorbed that I almost forgot why I was there.  I continued walking around and examining the fascinating room.  More creepy items, some for sale, some not.    A lot of statues… angels smiling, angels crying.  Witches.  Cats.   A statue of a dragon with wings.  Wait, was it a dragon?  Maybe a demon of some sort?  Glowing eyes, sure seemed evil.  And it seemed like he was looking right at me.

I was deep in thought when I heard her enter the room.  And that is how my heart skipped a beat as she said, “Finally.  You are here, Allison.  I have been waiting for you.”

TAG Part 5

2 weeks.  It had been 2 weeks since I had been brought to the hospital, and they had yet to release me.  I was fine, I had no symptoms at all.  My lab work had all come back fine, and there was no trace of anything. Yet, they were still very concerned about me.  They refused to lift the quarantine, which I thought was illegal.  How could they, I had repeatedly asked, keep a healthy woman under quarantine for so long without due cause?

They had responded that 4 unexplained deaths was indeed due cause, and until they found out why everyone who came in contact with me died I would have to stay.  Apparently, the 2 people who were in critical condition had also died.  Now I wasn’t saying that was good, nor was I happy about it.  But 2 weeks and no other incidents, that’s too long.  But Dr. Howell had been quick to explain that there had been no other incidents because I had not been in contact with anyone else. 

“So put me in contact!“ I had protested. 

“With whom?” he had responded.  And to that, I had no answer.

Over the past few days, I had gotten very itchy.  There was nothing for me to do, although they had allowed me my cell phone, thank god!  And I had access to a computer, so I could go online and at least be a part of the world, albeit virtually.  I filled my days with social media, games, and reading.  I had always been a voracious reader, and loved the classics.  I tried to view this time as a vacation, and begin to re-pour through some books that I hadn’t read in a while. Anna Karenina was first, and I immediately got lost in the language, the beautiful and painful world of Anna.  Then I moved onto the Bronte sisters and Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, and Agnes Grey… again, lost in the pastoral settings and romantic prose, and in the hypnotic language, making me feel the wanting, the yearning.  I did get lost.  Then I would be jolted back to the cold, grim reality of my new world when a nurse dressed like a storm trooper came in to ignore me and check my vitals. I was locked in a clinical room, antiseptic, cold and most troubling of all, with no real human contact.  I was eating, but I was starving. 

One day, I was reading when I noticed a large ant climbing up my window sill.  It was pretty big for an ant, and I was surprised that he had gotten into what appeared to be a hermetically sealed room.  I suddenly got an idea.  If I could touch this little creature and it didn’t die, maybe I would be able to prove to Dr. Howell that I had no further issues, that I was now just fine!  I rose, and walked over to the window.  Slowly, I reached out to the ant, and placed my index finger on him.  He was still.  Very still.  He was dead, almost immediately.  Maybe I crushed him, I reasoned.  Shit, no.  This was weird, and very bad.  What the hell? 

They were going to keep me here forever, I thought to myself.  What are they even doing?  What could they possibly be studying about me?  They will never figure it out, because they have no clue.  Even I have no clue.  Wait – yes, I have a clue.  That little boy, that day, “tag”.  That was the start of all of this, that little, cold-eyed boy.  Why hadn’t I connected him to this sooner?  I should tell the doctor!

No, I reasoned.  If I told anyone that a little boy rang my doorbell, said “tag” implying that I am now “it”, and then disappeared into thin air all that would be accomplished is that I would be placed on a 24-hour lockdown with a Thorazine drip.  No, I would have to figure this out on my own.  I could tell no one. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a car pull up to what appeared to be a side entrance to this hospital.  I had never been at this hospital before now, and did not know the layout.  I saw a man jump out of the car with a bouquet of flowers, and leave the car running while he ran inside.  Impulsively, I made a decision – and maybe a terrible mistake.  I grabbed my shoes and my cell phone, and pushed up the window and looked out.  2 floors.  Without thought or logic, I jumped.  It was a much longer jump than I expected, and even though I was in solid physical condition, it really hurt to land.  I rose slowly to assess if I had injured myself, but I thought I was ok.  I mean as ok as I could be at this point.  I looked around and saw no one.  I bolted to the car, got behind the wheel and drove as fast as I could.  I escaped! 

But what would I do now?  What could I do?  If I went home, I would likely have a SWAT team there shortly to ensure I was recaptured and this time, put under a very secure lock down.  I realized there was only one thing I could do, only one thing I had to do – I had to find him.  I had to find the boy.  But how?

TAG Part 4

Later, I awoke more calmly.  I was very groggy, moving as though there was lead in my veins instead of blood.  My head was pounding, and I had a thirst such as I had never felt.  Opening my eyes hurt.  I was clearly medicated, which slowed me down greatly, and took the edge off whatever pain I had been feeling.  However, it did very little for the anxiety that crept over me as I began to become more and more aware of my surroundings. 

I was in a small hospital room, and I was alone.  No nurse, doctor or other patient was in sight.  I was attached to a monitor and an IV.  And I ached from head to toe.  Weird, that cat attack couldn’t have caused this much pain.  I replayed the events of the day in my bleary brain:  Woke up to a weird little boy tagging me and disappearing.  I had a huge and ugly spider under my car door handle.  I had been savagely attacked by a stray cat.   OK, the spider thing, that was unusual – I had seen that before… but it was still weird. Yet, not nearly as bizarre as the other two.  And now I was here, bringing my super-weird count to 4.  What a day.  And yet, I know that it was not over.  The weirdness was just beginning, I knew this.  I had no idea how I knew that, but I did.  It was like a cloud had been blocking the sunlight, and was now slowly moving out of the way.  The bright sunlight of awareness was gradually coming to me at what felt like a glacial pace.  There was something in that sunlight that I did not want to see, and still I was going to see it.   I sensed it danger.  Something in the depth of my stomach turned at this awareness.  Soon, the light would be fully ablaze, and I would be forced to stare into until my retinas burned at the sight of it.   And this awareness was something the medication dripping into my body from the IV could not dull. 

At that moment, a young man walked into the room.   He seemed nervous, hesitant.  And oddly, he wore a surgical mask.  Was I contagious?  Was that it?  Am I just feverish and hallucinating from eating some bad mushroom or something?  That would explain so much.  None of the weird happenings would have actually happened; it would have all be figments of my twisted imagination. 

“Miss Walker?  How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice muffled through the mask. 

“Thirsty.” I replied, my voice croakish.  “And achy”, I added.

He took some notes on his clipboard.  He kept a safe distance.

“Umm, why are you wearing a mask?” I asked.

“Miss Walker, I am Dr. Howell.  I’m sorry for the confusion, and for the mask.  We need to take all precautions.  Now that you are awake, is there someone you would like us to call?” he asked, again from a safe distance.

“No.”  There was no one.  I was alone in this city.  Except for Thomas of course.  Thomas!  Oh crap, I have to call Thomas!  He will be freaking out, I missed my important meeting! 

“Where is my cell phone?” I asked.  “I have to call my business partner”.

“Not yet, Miss Walker.  You need your rest.  But give me his name and number, and I will call him directly.” 

So formal.  So very cold.  What was happening here?

“Doctor, what’s going on?  What is happening?” I asked.

“Miss Walker...”

“Ally.” I interrupted.

“Ally.  OK.  Ally, we suspect that you may have a virus of some sort.  We are keeping you under quarantine until we can confirm if you have something, and if you are contagious.  It is a necessary precaution.  I am sorry”.

“What?  I am not sick, that’s crazy!  I am here because I was attacked by a stray cat.  If anything, that damn cat might have had rabies, but even so, I had all my vaccinations for a trip out of the country last year.  And –“

“Ally,” he interrupted, “yes.  You were attacked by a cat.  We understand that.  But that can’t explain the symptoms that people are getting when they are around you.” 

He paused, seemingly searching for the right words.

“Ally, you were brought in here 2 days ago.  Since that time, 4 people who came in direct contact with you got very sick within minutes.  VERY sick.  High fever, flu-like symptoms.  This includes the 2 EMT drivers and 2 members of the ER team.”  He stopped, and he looked past me.  He did not want to make eye contact. 

He continued, “Ally, 2 of them are in critical condition.  And 2 of them… 2 of them died”.

Horror Fiction Fun: Dawn's Horror Blog: TAG Part 3

Horror Fiction Fun: Dawn's Horror Blog: TAG Part 3: Later that day, I finally had a moment to breath.  I stopped at Starbucks for a skim iced Mocha Latte, and sat in my car sipping it.  Enjoy...

Dawn's Horror Blog: TAG Part 3

Later that day, I finally had a moment to breath.  I stopped at Starbucks for a skim iced Mocha Latte, and sat in my car sipping it.  Enjoying the cold rush of chocolaty caffeine, with 90’s grunge music banging its way through the speakers and to my ears, I was happy.  Everyone needs a break, and this is the way I enjoy my down time.  You would probably not know it to look at me, with my conservative skirt and low heels, my current corporate drag, but back in the day, I was quite the grunge headbanger chick.  Not the heavy metal 80’s headbanger, no.  The far cooler 90’s headbanger, with the Seattle sound and the mosh pits.  That was me, jamming out in clubs to the sounds of Soundgarden, Nirvana, Pearl Jam and the like.  I spent 3 years in Seattle for work, and that is where I picked up both addictions:  Grunge music and coffee.  And so now, I find the best way to calm my mind is to sit in my car with the radio blaring “Smells Like Teen Spirit” or similar anthem, with the windows rolled up and a cold Starbucks in my hand.  I close my eyes, and am taken away.  Sometimes, I only need 2 or 3 songs to clear my head.  Other times, it takes 6 or 7.   Depends on the stress of the day. 

Today, I felt better after just 2 songs actually, and could finally begin to think clearly. 

I then had a moment to think about that strange little boy at my house today.  And whenever I had thought about him, I felt as if I had seen a ghost.  Literally every time he crossed my mind, the little hairs pricked up on the back of my neck and my arms.  It is like I was suddenly cold, but I was really not.  A chilling sensation, which just so happened to also be alarming.  I ignored the feeling each time it came, telling myself it was all just in my mind.

Who was he?  What should I do about it?  My brain started to go into overdrive.  What if he was kidnapped and I was his only hope of escape, and I blew it? Wait, what if he was missing and somehow the police find out he came to my house?  What if I become a suspect?  Oh no, this is getting out of hand.  I should call someone.  But who? 

That question had to go on hold as I see my long time business partner, Thomas, was calling me.  I lowered “Black Hole Sun”, and took his call.   

“Hey, are you heading over to Morgan and White”, he asked dispensing with any formalities such as saying hello or asking how I am.  That’s Thomas, and that is why I love working with him.  He is all business, all the time.  He is drive personified, he is pure focus.  And me, I am the creative mind, so he keeps me balanced.  He is the Yin to my Yang. 

“On my way now”, I lied.  It’s a little white lie, because I am more than halfway there already. 

“Don’t be late.  And call me after”, he said in his typical rushed tone, and hung up.  Anyone else might have been offended or thought him rude.  But I knew Thomas, who was simply very pragmatic with his time and information.  I dropped my phone in my lap, and shifted into gear to pull out of the parking spot.  Before I could pull out, I had to slam on my breaks.  I saw a small cat had walked in front of my car and plopped herself down in front of me, effectively blocking my escape.  I looked behind me and saw a car had just pulled into the parking spot that was open just a minute ago. 

I honked.  The cat did not move.  I honked again.  The cat expertly ignored me.  I rolled my window down and shouted to the cat to move, and again was ceremoniously ignored. 

“C’mon, cat, I can’t be late”, I shouted out the window.  Nothing. 

“Dammit”, I mumbled under my breath.  I got out of the car with the goal of chasing it away.  As I moved closer, I was shocked when the cat launched itself at me!  It attacked my face, catching me so off guard that I had no time to put my arms up to block it.  I tried to push it off of me, but it seemed latched on, biting me, scratching me.  I pulled at it, and must have been screaming wildly because people started running towards me.  No one actually helped me, and I had the fleeting thought that they might stop recording me for youtube, and give me a hand.   I fell to my knees, still not believing what was happening.  Finally, the cat gave up and dropped to the ground.   My face was burning, and I was shaking.  Now, a woman came up to me and asked if I was ok.  I told her I was, but I knew I was not.  I was in a state of shock.  A man came up to me too, and told me to sit down in my car while he got someone to help.  Everything was in slow motion, and I could hear fragments of what they were saying: “who should I call?”…”rabies”…”EMT?”…”try to catch it”….

I watched the cat that had so viscously attacked me.  She just sat there for a minute staring at me.  Watching me.  She got up and walked towards me and for a moment, I thought she might attack me again.  But she didn’t.  She circled back to where she was, and from there, moved back into the wooded area behind the parking lot.  And just like that, she was gone.

Then things got very far away, and I passed out.  I dreamed of the boy at my front door.  I woke up screaming.  

TAG Part 2

Welcome back!  Thank you for the support and the kind feedback.  I want to become a stronger writer, and love this particular style and genre.  So thank you so very much!

Here is part 2 of TAG.  I hope you enjoy it!  More to come, dear readers!  Just remember, I have a whole book full of crazy, scary, creepy and even troubling stories... Just wait! 

TAG Part 2

I slowly stood back up, and then just stood there for a minute.  I watched as he got smaller and smaller, and then disappeared into the horizon.  I could not move.  What the hell was that?   Finally, I snapped out of my trance.  He was gone, and here I was outside in my robe, freezing in the oddly cold November air.  I instinctively hugged myself and rubbed my upper arms to get a little warmth in them, and exhaled as my breath made swirly tendrils of fog in the air.  I ran back inside, shut the door and locked it behind me.   I leaned against the door, taking another deep breath in. 

What was that?  Was I still dreaming?  I was all alone in the house, so it was definitely a possibility.  But no, this feels awake.  And now, after that weirdness shot chills of shock-waves through my body, I was absolutely awake.  Wide freaking awake.

I glanced at the time, and saw that it was now 6:17 and I had less than 45 minutes to get up and ready for my first meeting of the day.  So, I decided to put that bizarre incident out of my head and get on with my day.  Hopped in the shower, had coffee, got dressed.  I often felt like I was living in that old Beatles song “A Day in The Life”:

“Woke up, got out of bed, dragged the comb across my head.  Found my way downstairs

and drank a cup.  Looking up, I noticed I was late”.

Story of my life, and probably millions just like me.  But I did look up, and I was running late.  So I threw on my best business casual look and added nice shoes and accessories so that I didn’t project a look of being as late as I really was, and headed out of the front door.  Since moving to this new apartment with no assigned parking, I was often confused when my car wasn’t right outside of my door.  But today, thank God, my car was in the spot right in front of my door.  As I rushed to it, I thought of that young, ghostly boy and a shudder ran through my body.  I looked around once more to see if he was in sight, but no.  He was gone.  I reached for the door to my car, and jumped in shock as I saw a leg of what looked like a giant spider under my door handle!  I couldn’t help myself, and let out a short scream of horror.  I took a deep breath, and leaned in to see what it really was.  And I was right, a big, hairy, brown spider.  It was November after all, and those spiders tend to pop up in the strangest places.   I had seen them before, and while I do not love spiders, I do not fear them.  So I placed my car keys strategically under my handle and tapped a little, hoping the vibrations would make the creepy crawly move.  And boy did it work!  That little guy was wiggling as though I set him on fire.  He scurried out from underneath the door handle, but did not move beyond that. 

“Come on, little guy, I have a meeting”, I pleaded.  But he just sat there, and if I didn’t know any better, I would say he was looking right at me.  I hate to kill things, so I didn’t want to squish him.  I thought I would give him a fighting chance and just get him to the ground.  Since I could see most of him, I moved closer and finally gave him a flick with my pinky knuckle.  He flew in the air, and landed on the ground.  I thought I would see him scamper away to safety, but he didn’t move.  I looked more closely and saw that he was dead.  He was alive a second ago, I had seen him move… But now, he was dead as a door-nail.  Huh.  Sorry little guy, I didn’t mean to.  And off I went, zipping towards my first appointment of the day.

========================================================================

At that very moment, the boy from the door, hidden somewhere unreachable, smiled.  

(End of Part 2)

Welcome to my new blog!  

As many of you know, I am a huge fan of the horror genre.  I love to read, watch, study, analyze, assess and discuss anything horror.  Jaws is my favorite movie, followed closely by The Exorcist - which, btw, is my favorite book (I have read it so many times, that I cannot keep track).  I love reading horror because as a reader, it is thrilling and invigorating.  But also, as a writer, I love studying the way the authors bring terror to life....how it builds slowly, how they use language to convey such deep and powerful emotions.  And I admit, I read to learn how I might be able to do it someday myself.  So folks. today is someday.

Here is my first fiction blog - and the reason it is a blog, is because I honestly have no idea how to publish a book of short stories.   

Plus, one of the best reading experience I ever had was when I read Stephen King's "The Green Mile".  The reason it was the best reading experience for me was not as much about the story -which was indeed amazing - but because, if you do not recall, when it was initially released, it was released as a serial novel.  He released it in 6 short pieces, one month apart.  So I would get the first book, which was delightfully super light and thin, and tear through it in day - and then I had to wait a whole month to learn what happens next!  It was terrible and wonderful!  I loved that antici...pation.

So beyond the fact that I have no clue as to how to publish my works, I am very excited to utilize this method.  I will post parts of my stories once a week, and then you, dear reader, will have to wait to learn what happens.  Ready?  I have no idea what will happen, so thank you for taking this crazy, terrifying (to me!!) plunge with me.  I am really opening up to you, and you will see things that you might think - "how the hell did she come up with that!?!?".... I hope you will still be my friend after peering into the twisted darkness, hahahaha... But I figure, Stephen King still has friends, right?

The first story is called "Tag", and here is the first part of it.  Please enjoy and let me know if you want to read what happens next! 

TAG

It was a normal morning, or so I thought… But don’t all horror stories start out that way?  I was still in bed, groggily waking up slowly.  Trying to rip my body from the soft and comfortable bedding was always a challenge in the morning.  I am not sure what the opposite phrase for a “Morning Person” is, but whatever that phrase is, it’s me.

When the doorbell first rang at this hour, just past 6am, I was so shocked that I thought it was either my imagination or a remnant of a distant floating dream.  But then the dogs started barking, and I knew it was real. 

“Who on earth…?”, I said to no one, as I was all alone in my room. 

I rose, and threw my robe over my PJs, and as I walked out of my bedroom, tossed my hair up into a messy bun.  Coffee would be great right now. 

I tripped over my running shoes at the foot of my bed as I crossed my bedroom to head towards the front door. 

“This better be good,” I mumbled to myself.

I made it to the front door, and looked out at the peep hole.  No one was there. 

“Oh, maybe a package delivery”, I thought, realizing that they often ring the bell and then rush off to deliver their next. 

So, I unlocked the front door, opened it.  I could not believe what I saw.  Standing there, all alone, was a small young boy, looking very somber and serious.  He looked about 6 years old, and despite the fact that it was July, he looked like he was freezing.  I knelt down in front of him, to see if I recognized him at all.  I didn’t know what would be weirder, if I knew him or if I didn’t.   Turns out, I didn’t.  He was not familiar at all.  He had very dark eyes, almost black, and wore no trace of a smile.

“Hello?”, I said, almost as a question.  “Can I help you?  Are you ok?”

He looked at me for a moment, and then in a cold, dead voice said, “Tag”.  He reached out with one hand, and with his pointer finger, gently touched me on the arm for just a second.   Then, he turned and slowly walked away.  I called after him to wait, I was so puzzled and at the same time, concerned for his safety.  Who was he?  What had he meant?  Where was he going?