Wednesday May 14th, 2014

The exercise:

Let us return to the continuation prompt (if this is your first time with this exercise please feel free to click the label at the bottom of the post to see how previous visits turned out).

Montreal eliminated Boston this evening with a 3-1 victory. They are now off to the Eastern Conference Finals (aka The Stanley Cup semi-finals) to face the New York Rangers, a series which begins on Saturday.

Max did pretty well with his vaccination this morning, which surprisingly only involved one shot. I didn't bother asking about the other shot listed on the immunization schedule - if they weren't planning on jabbing my son with two needles, I sure as hell wasn't going to be the one responsible for suggesting it.

Maybe I'll enquire in a couple of months.


She grew nervous with night's arrival. Her bare feet would beat a familiar path through the house, weaving between chairs and around appliances without giving them a moment's thought. From the window in the living room overlooking a quiet street to the bathroom window that gave a partial view of an even quieter alley.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Gradually slowing but never stopping.

Not until sleep slipped into her apartment and lured her into bed. Whispering empty promises of rest and recovery. Of peace and worst of all, the lie she so desperately needed to believe, of safety.

This slumber, the voice cooed, this one will be undisturbed. They will not find you here. The dreams will not find you.

But, of course, they always did.


Greg said...

I trust you were gracious in victory and didn't spend your evening phoning numbers in the Boston area and crowing :) As for the vaccinations: they might well be able to deliver them in one injection (see, e.g. MMR). You should probably phone up and check though.
Hmm, that seems like an almost peaceful scene you've given us, with just enough detail to pique my curiosity. And now... unquiet dreams?

The dreams always started the same. Here she was, in her apartment still, standing at bathroom window and looking down into the alley. She didn't remember how she got here, but there was a toothbrush in her hand. Something moved outside, and she turned her attention to it. A cat had strolled out into the street-light's beam, and then looked around. Comfortable that it was unobserved it sat down and started licking its paws, grooming itself. She smiled a little, amused that it thought it was unseen while she watched it.
Something dripped from her mouth, and she rubbed her hand across it reflexively. When she pulled her hand away, the side of it was smeared with blood.
She looked away, shocked, and found herself looking out of the window again. The cat was gone, the alley was empty.
Behind her the bathroom door swung open, creaking on the hinges that she kept meaning to oil and never seemed to get round to. She turned now to look at it, expecting that the wind had blown it open, and something -- probably more blood -- dripped from her mouth again, landing on the floor. In the open doorway sat the cat from the alley, still grooming itself.
"How...?" The words drifted from her mouth, eaten up by the intensity of the silence in the apartment. The cat lazily unfolded itself and regarded her with electric yellow eyes. Another drop of blood fell from her mouth to the floor, and the cat stretched lazily, padded over, and started to lap it up.

Marc said...

Greg - hmm, that's not a bad idea! Wish I'd thought of it at the time... might not be too late still!

That's a delightfully horrific dream you've described. Great details with the toothbrush and the blood dripping from the mouth, and that cat... yeesh.