Andrea Michelle
02-11-2016, 10:35 AM
I have been good for two weeks, but my resolve is beginning to fade. For two weeks, I have ignored the noises, the scuttles, the scrapes, the sounds of life. For two weeks, I have obeyed the landlord and ignored the evidence in my ears of some...thing...living beneath my feet. The curiosity is growing in my chest, a blooming flower, draining me of will power. What is he keeping down there? How is it living without care? Why have I been forbidden to journey down the steps into the basement where, surely, it is living?
I shouldn't even be here in the first place. It was a hasty move made when I received a call from an old friend a mere 4 weeks ago.
"Dave?"
"Yes?" I remember replying quite slowly, drawing out the word as I pondered at the fear in my old friend, Jace's, voice.
"You've gotta help me, man. I'm...I'm in some trouble. I don't know who to call or who to trust. There's some shady stuff going on. I never meant to get involved...it just...I don't know how to do this alone."
"Hey, calm down. What are you talking about?"
I could hear the tremble on his lips. I could nearly smell the sweat as it traveled down his face and onto the phone receiver. I envisioned his usually neat head of hair as an untidy, unkempt mess, and his glasses askew. He was probably massaging his neck, just as he always did when he was nervous or upset. I felt the beating beneath my own chest quicken, as if he were feeding me his fears through the wire.
"Can you just come down here, Dave? I just--I need your help."
My throat held captive the agreement so ready to escape my lips. Visions of flashing blue and red lights appeared in my mind; police men as they told me my rights, handcuffing and directing me to the back seat of their car. I envisioned Jace's face as he sat next to me, his eyes a glowing shade of justice. "Worth it, man" he had said, "he won't be blackmailing you any longer. Guaranteed." I remember the vehicle of one of our classmates; the one we had vandalized as symbol of revenge. Despite the story Jace told the police (his acting abilities, the result of his life-long theater training, was always useful), we both were arrested. The mark still stains our permanent record.
The last time I had seen Jace was two years ago, at the funeral of his sister, Celia. I shuddered at the cold memory, willing it out of my mind. He had never quite recovered from the shock of it. Neither of us had. A surge of compassion welled up in me for this friends I had always counted as family.
"Yeah, bud, of course I'll come."
"I hate to ask this from you, but I know you'll be able to help me. You're the only one who can. Look, I've got a friend who owns a few rent houses. I'll get him to lend one out to you for a few weeks while we sort all this out. I'll explain everything when you get here."
As he spoke, my mind was in a whirlwind. A few weeks? In Kansas? I thought of the old musical theater. How many evenings had we spent under their hot lights? I thought of the line dance bar we had taken so many dates. I also remembered the people I had left behind. Those I had hoped to never see again. A ball of angst began weaving in my stomach. How exactly was I supposed to just up and leave work for so long? It was so incredibly inconvenient, and yet, I had already agreed.
"...Dave? Dave!"
"What?" I responded with more of a bite than intended.
"Just...hurry. All right?"
The journey to my hometown was quick. I explained to my boss about a sick family member who needed my immediate attention. The knot of guilt grew ever more. As promised, Jace provided me with a small house, free of rent, to call home. Looking back, that phone call had been just as strange as the first.
"Is this Dave?" A man's voice, high pitched and squirrel-y, inquired upon answering his phone.
"Yes. I heard..."
"Yeah, I've got a house for you," the roughness in his words revealed his unwillingness towards generosity, or, rather, too many smoked cigarettes.
"Thank you," slid my reply through gritted teeth. An automatic response.
"I'll be down there by the weekend. Will the house be ready by then?"
"The house is ready now. What? Do you think I don't take care of my property? Listen, bub, you've got the house for as long as Jace needs you, but you still gotta obey my rules."
I steeled myself for a long list of persnickety no-no's. Only take 5 minute showers. Never leave the fridge door open for more than 10 seconds. Wash your hands before touching anything. Who know's what this guy could come up with.
"Stay out of the basement."
I waited but no other commands came.
"Is that it?"
"Is that it?! Boy, if you had any idea...yes, " his switch from a raging bull to stoic dove was unnerving.
"You have free run of the place, but, please," his use of the word sounded clumsy, as if he had only ever heard it and never before tried it out on his own tongue, "stay out of the basement. There are...personal items in there."
Willing to end the call as soon as possible, I agreed instantly, was given directions, and hung up. Packing light in optimism of a short trip, I drove to Kansas that very weekend.
To Be Continued...
Read the Full Story Here (http://www.thequotingquill.com/#!short-stories-online/c130w)
I shouldn't even be here in the first place. It was a hasty move made when I received a call from an old friend a mere 4 weeks ago.
"Dave?"
"Yes?" I remember replying quite slowly, drawing out the word as I pondered at the fear in my old friend, Jace's, voice.
"You've gotta help me, man. I'm...I'm in some trouble. I don't know who to call or who to trust. There's some shady stuff going on. I never meant to get involved...it just...I don't know how to do this alone."
"Hey, calm down. What are you talking about?"
I could hear the tremble on his lips. I could nearly smell the sweat as it traveled down his face and onto the phone receiver. I envisioned his usually neat head of hair as an untidy, unkempt mess, and his glasses askew. He was probably massaging his neck, just as he always did when he was nervous or upset. I felt the beating beneath my own chest quicken, as if he were feeding me his fears through the wire.
"Can you just come down here, Dave? I just--I need your help."
My throat held captive the agreement so ready to escape my lips. Visions of flashing blue and red lights appeared in my mind; police men as they told me my rights, handcuffing and directing me to the back seat of their car. I envisioned Jace's face as he sat next to me, his eyes a glowing shade of justice. "Worth it, man" he had said, "he won't be blackmailing you any longer. Guaranteed." I remember the vehicle of one of our classmates; the one we had vandalized as symbol of revenge. Despite the story Jace told the police (his acting abilities, the result of his life-long theater training, was always useful), we both were arrested. The mark still stains our permanent record.
The last time I had seen Jace was two years ago, at the funeral of his sister, Celia. I shuddered at the cold memory, willing it out of my mind. He had never quite recovered from the shock of it. Neither of us had. A surge of compassion welled up in me for this friends I had always counted as family.
"Yeah, bud, of course I'll come."
"I hate to ask this from you, but I know you'll be able to help me. You're the only one who can. Look, I've got a friend who owns a few rent houses. I'll get him to lend one out to you for a few weeks while we sort all this out. I'll explain everything when you get here."
As he spoke, my mind was in a whirlwind. A few weeks? In Kansas? I thought of the old musical theater. How many evenings had we spent under their hot lights? I thought of the line dance bar we had taken so many dates. I also remembered the people I had left behind. Those I had hoped to never see again. A ball of angst began weaving in my stomach. How exactly was I supposed to just up and leave work for so long? It was so incredibly inconvenient, and yet, I had already agreed.
"...Dave? Dave!"
"What?" I responded with more of a bite than intended.
"Just...hurry. All right?"
The journey to my hometown was quick. I explained to my boss about a sick family member who needed my immediate attention. The knot of guilt grew ever more. As promised, Jace provided me with a small house, free of rent, to call home. Looking back, that phone call had been just as strange as the first.
"Is this Dave?" A man's voice, high pitched and squirrel-y, inquired upon answering his phone.
"Yes. I heard..."
"Yeah, I've got a house for you," the roughness in his words revealed his unwillingness towards generosity, or, rather, too many smoked cigarettes.
"Thank you," slid my reply through gritted teeth. An automatic response.
"I'll be down there by the weekend. Will the house be ready by then?"
"The house is ready now. What? Do you think I don't take care of my property? Listen, bub, you've got the house for as long as Jace needs you, but you still gotta obey my rules."
I steeled myself for a long list of persnickety no-no's. Only take 5 minute showers. Never leave the fridge door open for more than 10 seconds. Wash your hands before touching anything. Who know's what this guy could come up with.
"Stay out of the basement."
I waited but no other commands came.
"Is that it?"
"Is that it?! Boy, if you had any idea...yes, " his switch from a raging bull to stoic dove was unnerving.
"You have free run of the place, but, please," his use of the word sounded clumsy, as if he had only ever heard it and never before tried it out on his own tongue, "stay out of the basement. There are...personal items in there."
Willing to end the call as soon as possible, I agreed instantly, was given directions, and hung up. Packing light in optimism of a short trip, I drove to Kansas that very weekend.
To Be Continued...
Read the Full Story Here (http://www.thequotingquill.com/#!short-stories-online/c130w)