I AM SO SORRY! I haven't updated in forever! I'm working on the next chapter, but for now, please read this story I wrote for a contest. The guidelines were that it had to be in second person and include something nameless. The prompt was: "holiday". Don't forget, reviews make the world go round!
Disclaimer: I do actually own this.
Your adorable black lab, Cassie, greets you upon your arrival home with your favourite bright blue suitcase. You have just been on a cruise in Alaska, watching glaciers and icebergs pass by as you relax in the warm pool. You've heard tales from your family and friends of people on cruises losing their luggage or mixing it up, but you know that would never happen to you. You've made sure that you always have the gaudiest suitcase on the plane, ship, or train.
After letting Cassie out and thanking and paying the neighbour for watching the house, you turn to unpack. Admiring the shiny blue flower pattern of your suitcase, you drag it to your bedroom. It's heavier than I remember, you think. You must have bought more souvenirs than you thought.
Heaving it onto your bed, you open it. At least, you try to open it. There's a lock, one you don't recognise. Maybe the TSA locked it - you've heard tales of peoples' suitcases opening mid-flight. After several calls to different airports and the dock, you become puzzled. If they didn't lock it, who did?
You grab your hammer from under the sink and smash the lock. The suitcase springs open. What the *&£!? Who put that...that...Thing...in my luggage?
Your phone rings, interrupting your shocked train of thought. You pick it up, still cringing at the thought of the Thing in your suitcase. You greet the person on the other end, who turns out to be that cute bloke from airport security. He says someone called with a report of wrong luggage, and is wondering if anything was wrong with yours? You proudly reply in the negative, knowing nobody could possibly confuse your luggage with theirs. Then you remember the Thing. Well, maybe there is something wrong.
You describe the Thing in the suitcase, and he promises to keep an eye out. For what? After hanging up, you return to unpacking, cautiously removing the Thing and placing it on the floor. Cassie seems to take an interest in It, which is quickly resolved by locking her in the kitchen for the duration of the afternoon.
Whoever placed the Thing in your luggage must have replaced all your clothes as well. Your cute little black dress that was so carefully folded has been replaced with…is that a skort? You begin to think that maybe someone did switch their luggage with yours.
There's a tag hanging from the bag, but it seems to be waterlogged. And it's certainly not the designer tag you had. Sighing, you pick up the phone and call the airport. The person who picks up tells you to bring the suitcase in. You do, but not before Cassie escapes and runs down the street, prompting you to waste half an hour looking for her when she was at your neighbour's house the whole time.
Somehow, you make it to the airport on time. The missing luggage office is right there, and you drag in the suitcase. After waiting ten minutes in the line do you remember- the Thing! You've forgotten to put it back!
You drop the bag and sprint to your car. Luckily, you live fifteen minutes away. The Thing is sitting on your bed when you finally get back, exactly as you left it. Well, almost exactly as you left it. Part of the left side is missing, probably broken off by a certain black, furry culprit. Oh well. Too late to do anything now.
You grab it and, while running to your car, somehow manage to drop it in the only puddle in your entire yard. Great. After twenty minutes of agonising traffic, you run into the airport and to the missing luggage centre, where you find the suitcase sitting right where you left it.
Unfortunately, you left it at the door, so you're forced to return to the back of the line. People are shooting you funny looks due to the wet, smelly Thing over your shoulder. After a long wait, you finally reach the front of the line. The nice person at the counter takes the suitcase (with the Thing hurriedly stuffed inside) and your phone number, with a promise to call if your luggage is found.
As you drive home, you wonder what's under that damp towel in the backseat. That thought quickly fades to the back of your head, joining thoughts of dinner and that cute neighbour across the street. Unnoticed, the Thing thrives in its new, dark, damp environment in the backseat of your car.