A female looms in front of her, screaming. She is tall with flowing blond
hair. Her eye sockets are empty, hollow. Her complexion is pale, almost
like milk. She wears nothing. She slinks, naked.
'He killed Amy. He didn't just kill Teddy like he told you, he killed Amy too. He lied. He buried there bodies in the garden. You will find the truth in the garden! Look! Dig!'
Her mouth is curled back as she screams. Her stamina is frightening, bone chilling.
Rae wakes with a scream. She's sweating. She shivers and looks down at her body. She had thrown off her covers during her nightmare.
"Holy shit," she remarks, short of breath.
She glances at her dog. He is still sleeping.
Rae gets out of bed and walks over to her window overlooking the garden. It is filled with dead cornstalks. "It was just my imagination." Rae believes that the night's events had brought her to that dream. Her heart disagrees.
In her dream they were standing in front of her fireplace. On the walls, the word 'shooter' was engraved everywhere. On the coffee table sat a black hat.
Rae contemplates on whether she should poke around in the garden. She glances at Peanut again. She sighs. She does not want to wake him yet she does not want to leave him alone.
Rae decides that he is better off up here that way he won't make a racket barking.
She looks at her clock. It is only one-thirty. "I have plenty of time before Mort arrives, maybe I'll dig a little." Her curiosity is getting the best of her.
"I feel like I am betraying my best friend," Rae says while she ties her shoelaces to her sneakers. "The truth shall set you free," Rae recites. "Yeah, right."
Rae grabs a flashlight from her nightstand and hurries down her staircase. She snatches a coat beside her door. She hesitates to step into the muggy, dark night. Gathering her courage, she steps outside. She walks over to her shed and picks up the shovel resting against it.
"Here goes nothing." Before Rae begins to dig, she pulls up some of the cornstalks. "I don't know why I am doing this."
After pulling up about six cornstalks, she begins to dig.
Growing bored with digging, she starts to sing.
"Winter, spring, summer, or fall; all you got to do is call. And I'll be there, yes I will. You've got a friend. If the sky above you should turn dark and full of clouds and that old north wind should begin to blow. Keep your head together and call my name out loud and soon I'll be knocking upon your-"
Her shovel contacting something that does not carry the feeling of dirt interrupts her singing. Rae drops her shovel and reaches for her flashlight. She shines the dimming light upon the unknown object. At first, it is hard to make out. Her eyes adjust to the lack of light and she makes out the form. She gasps.
"Holy shit." She bends down and picks up the dark piece of treasure that she came upon. It was a woman's black, suede shoe. Size eight. "Oh my God."
*******
Mort reaches the airport in record time. He left his house at 12:16 and it is now 1:12. He parks his car in a spot closest the entrance. Dragging his suitcase behind him, he walks through the revolving doors.
Upon his entering, he spots an open desk. He approaches the aging woman. "Excuse me, Ma'am?" The woman had obviously not recognized his presence. Her nose is buried in a book. The title is "How to Achieve Spunk after Menopause". Mort shivers, apparently disgusted. He exaggeratedly clears his throat. She looks up. She places her book down and plasters a fake smile upon her wrinkly face. Her teeth are yellow and her eyes have lost their shine.
"Hello, how are you this night?" Her voice is shaky and old.
"I was wondering if there are any flights leaving to South Carolina within the hour?" Mort pushes his falling glasses back up his nose.
"Well, let's see." Mort reads the woman's nametag. Her name is Maggy.
"Appropriate," Mort whispers to himself. He may have whispered louder than he intended.
"Excuse me, did you say something?" She asks sweetly, glancing at him over the rim of her red, thick framed glasses.
"Oh, err, no I'm sorry. I was just thinking aloud." She carries on without questioning any further.
Mort begins to click his tongue impatiently. Maggy strikes him an annoying look. "Oh, sorry." Mort smiles. She, however, is not amused. "I just have to use the bathroom." He tries to gain back some dignity. But all is lost.
"The lavatory is across the lobby and to your right. You are welcome to use it. Perhaps when you return, I will be done with my search." Her aggravation is now apparent.
"Oh, um, thanks. I'll be right back." Mort lugs his suitcase to the bathroom. "Thanks for nothing, you old hag."
Mort walks right past the urinals and straight to the sink. Upon arriving, he drops his luggage.
He takes off his thick glasses and turns on the faucet. He splashes cold water onto his perfectly chiseled face.
"I am not looking forward to this," he sighs as he dries his face. Mort is a little nervous about returning to his old cabin. A few months after he moved in with Joanne, he realized that he never tore out his cornstalks. He didn't want to even glimpse the sight of those, especially since it will spark some unwanted memories. He is silently praying that Rae did it herself.
Mort picks his luggage back up and flushes a toilet so as not to look obvious. He walks out the door and past the vending machines. He stops dead in his tracks and searches his pants for change.
Relieved, he retrieves seventy-five cents from his pocket. He turns to the snack machines and purchases his favorite junk food, Doritos. He stuffs the delicious chips into his coat pocket and heads back to the receptionist.
He notices that Maggy is back to reading her infamous book. "Did you find any flights?" Mort politely questions.
She glances up at him and places her book to the side. "It is your lucky day, Mr. Rainey, there is one seat left on the 2:00 flight."
Butterflies flutter in his stomach as he hears her speak his name. Sometimes he forgets that he is a famous author. Otherwise, he would be a little freaked out. "Thank God. I really need to get down there tonight. How much for the ticket?"
"Two-hundred and seventy-five dollars."
"What?! Why so much?"
"First class is the only opening. All the coach seats are taken."
In all of his traveling, Mort has never ridden first class. He contemplates and decides that, as much as he is not looking forward to it, he would do anything to get down there tonight. "Fine. Do you take VISA?" Mort sighs. This night is not getting any better.
A/N: Ta da! Tell me what you think, pretty please? ;)
A/N again: Music please! Dun dun da da dun, dun dun da da dun, dun da da da.............
Adrienne's weird personality: Thank you to all of my reviewers! I love you all! May peace and good health be among you!
Adrienne's normal personality: Shut up you stupid cow! You sound like a freakin' priest. *looks to readers* What she is trying to say is thank you bunches and your reviews are much obliged. *whispers* Don't mind her, she is very weird. (hence the title)
Adrienne's weird personality: I heard that!
Adrienne's normal personality: Uh oh! Gotta run! *runs away*
Adrienne's weird personality: *chases after her while saying* Review ye scabrous dogs!
Adrienne's normal personality: *keeps running while saying* She doesn't mean that!
'He killed Amy. He didn't just kill Teddy like he told you, he killed Amy too. He lied. He buried there bodies in the garden. You will find the truth in the garden! Look! Dig!'
Her mouth is curled back as she screams. Her stamina is frightening, bone chilling.
Rae wakes with a scream. She's sweating. She shivers and looks down at her body. She had thrown off her covers during her nightmare.
"Holy shit," she remarks, short of breath.
She glances at her dog. He is still sleeping.
Rae gets out of bed and walks over to her window overlooking the garden. It is filled with dead cornstalks. "It was just my imagination." Rae believes that the night's events had brought her to that dream. Her heart disagrees.
In her dream they were standing in front of her fireplace. On the walls, the word 'shooter' was engraved everywhere. On the coffee table sat a black hat.
Rae contemplates on whether she should poke around in the garden. She glances at Peanut again. She sighs. She does not want to wake him yet she does not want to leave him alone.
Rae decides that he is better off up here that way he won't make a racket barking.
She looks at her clock. It is only one-thirty. "I have plenty of time before Mort arrives, maybe I'll dig a little." Her curiosity is getting the best of her.
"I feel like I am betraying my best friend," Rae says while she ties her shoelaces to her sneakers. "The truth shall set you free," Rae recites. "Yeah, right."
Rae grabs a flashlight from her nightstand and hurries down her staircase. She snatches a coat beside her door. She hesitates to step into the muggy, dark night. Gathering her courage, she steps outside. She walks over to her shed and picks up the shovel resting against it.
"Here goes nothing." Before Rae begins to dig, she pulls up some of the cornstalks. "I don't know why I am doing this."
After pulling up about six cornstalks, she begins to dig.
Growing bored with digging, she starts to sing.
"Winter, spring, summer, or fall; all you got to do is call. And I'll be there, yes I will. You've got a friend. If the sky above you should turn dark and full of clouds and that old north wind should begin to blow. Keep your head together and call my name out loud and soon I'll be knocking upon your-"
Her shovel contacting something that does not carry the feeling of dirt interrupts her singing. Rae drops her shovel and reaches for her flashlight. She shines the dimming light upon the unknown object. At first, it is hard to make out. Her eyes adjust to the lack of light and she makes out the form. She gasps.
"Holy shit." She bends down and picks up the dark piece of treasure that she came upon. It was a woman's black, suede shoe. Size eight. "Oh my God."
*******
Mort reaches the airport in record time. He left his house at 12:16 and it is now 1:12. He parks his car in a spot closest the entrance. Dragging his suitcase behind him, he walks through the revolving doors.
Upon his entering, he spots an open desk. He approaches the aging woman. "Excuse me, Ma'am?" The woman had obviously not recognized his presence. Her nose is buried in a book. The title is "How to Achieve Spunk after Menopause". Mort shivers, apparently disgusted. He exaggeratedly clears his throat. She looks up. She places her book down and plasters a fake smile upon her wrinkly face. Her teeth are yellow and her eyes have lost their shine.
"Hello, how are you this night?" Her voice is shaky and old.
"I was wondering if there are any flights leaving to South Carolina within the hour?" Mort pushes his falling glasses back up his nose.
"Well, let's see." Mort reads the woman's nametag. Her name is Maggy.
"Appropriate," Mort whispers to himself. He may have whispered louder than he intended.
"Excuse me, did you say something?" She asks sweetly, glancing at him over the rim of her red, thick framed glasses.
"Oh, err, no I'm sorry. I was just thinking aloud." She carries on without questioning any further.
Mort begins to click his tongue impatiently. Maggy strikes him an annoying look. "Oh, sorry." Mort smiles. She, however, is not amused. "I just have to use the bathroom." He tries to gain back some dignity. But all is lost.
"The lavatory is across the lobby and to your right. You are welcome to use it. Perhaps when you return, I will be done with my search." Her aggravation is now apparent.
"Oh, um, thanks. I'll be right back." Mort lugs his suitcase to the bathroom. "Thanks for nothing, you old hag."
Mort walks right past the urinals and straight to the sink. Upon arriving, he drops his luggage.
He takes off his thick glasses and turns on the faucet. He splashes cold water onto his perfectly chiseled face.
"I am not looking forward to this," he sighs as he dries his face. Mort is a little nervous about returning to his old cabin. A few months after he moved in with Joanne, he realized that he never tore out his cornstalks. He didn't want to even glimpse the sight of those, especially since it will spark some unwanted memories. He is silently praying that Rae did it herself.
Mort picks his luggage back up and flushes a toilet so as not to look obvious. He walks out the door and past the vending machines. He stops dead in his tracks and searches his pants for change.
Relieved, he retrieves seventy-five cents from his pocket. He turns to the snack machines and purchases his favorite junk food, Doritos. He stuffs the delicious chips into his coat pocket and heads back to the receptionist.
He notices that Maggy is back to reading her infamous book. "Did you find any flights?" Mort politely questions.
She glances up at him and places her book to the side. "It is your lucky day, Mr. Rainey, there is one seat left on the 2:00 flight."
Butterflies flutter in his stomach as he hears her speak his name. Sometimes he forgets that he is a famous author. Otherwise, he would be a little freaked out. "Thank God. I really need to get down there tonight. How much for the ticket?"
"Two-hundred and seventy-five dollars."
"What?! Why so much?"
"First class is the only opening. All the coach seats are taken."
In all of his traveling, Mort has never ridden first class. He contemplates and decides that, as much as he is not looking forward to it, he would do anything to get down there tonight. "Fine. Do you take VISA?" Mort sighs. This night is not getting any better.
A/N: Ta da! Tell me what you think, pretty please? ;)
A/N again: Music please! Dun dun da da dun, dun dun da da dun, dun da da da.............
Adrienne's weird personality: Thank you to all of my reviewers! I love you all! May peace and good health be among you!
Adrienne's normal personality: Shut up you stupid cow! You sound like a freakin' priest. *looks to readers* What she is trying to say is thank you bunches and your reviews are much obliged. *whispers* Don't mind her, she is very weird. (hence the title)
Adrienne's weird personality: I heard that!
Adrienne's normal personality: Uh oh! Gotta run! *runs away*
Adrienne's weird personality: *chases after her while saying* Review ye scabrous dogs!
Adrienne's normal personality: *keeps running while saying* She doesn't mean that!
