Within Ch. 03

Authors note: I'd like to extend a hearty thank you to everyone whose been reading my little episodes. For the few of you that have commented, thank you from the bottom of my heart, your motivational words inspire me to write more. I love hearing from you! And to everyone whose voted, also a huge thank you, I almost can't beleive the ratings I'm getting! If you haven't voted yet, please take the time to do so, it takes two seconds, and it means so much... and if you have an extra bit of time, please, send me a few lines! As I stated above... I crave feedback! Once again though, no sex quite yet, we must get all the annoying detail out of the way, and then we can get to the goodies. Thanks again!

The next few days were a flurry of unpacking boxes and arranging furniture to suit my mother's tastes. The piano, which I was currently endeavoring to learn how to play, was by far the heaviest thing we had to move. It took quite awhile to get the darn thing into the house, where my mother took equally long to decide where to put it. Since I was to be playing the cursed instrument on a daily basis, I meekly suggested I get some say in the matter. My mother turned on my in a cold fury and informed me I was not to tell her where to put things in her house, and that the place I'd suggested would get far too much sun and fade the keys. I looked at the dilapidated, second hand piano whose keys were quite yellow with age, and nodded in mock understanding and meek submittal.

I thereafter retreated to the sanctuary of my room, where I brooded in silence for awhile. I was never one to sit idly by, however, so I soon reached into my bag of necessities and emerged triumphantly with a rather battered book. I settled down to read, but with the blinds drawn, I couldn't see a thing. I grumbled to myself, wishing I could open them and let the bright sunlight pour in, but I also knew that would cause my mother to have an absolute fit. Instead, I decided it would be quite better if I just took my book outside. I tucked it under one arm and managed to make my way through the house towards the backyard without my mother seeing me and demanding to know why I wasn't working hard obeying her every command. I sighed with relief as I settled down on the porch with my back against a rotting post.

The cement porch overlooked a small patch of green grass that I discerned, to the best of my ability, was intended as a yard. A broken down Jacuzzi with a rotting trellis stood off to one side, and a few trees scattered around the perimeter of grass served as the rest of the so called yard. The foot or so around the porch was cement... then dissolved into grass. I say dissolved because the grass was, indeed, overrunning it in places.

Consumed by my examination of the area that was to be my new playground, I didn't notice at first the markings on the cement near the toe of my shoe, resting on the lip of cement beneath the porch. I leaned down, holding onto the post so I wouldn't fall, and managed to make out a name, John. There was more, but at that moment my mother's eagle eye spotted me through the screen and her voice shrilled at me to come back inside and help her with some comforters. I jumped, causing me to lose my balance, and I gracefully tumbled into the grass, landing on my posterior. I yelped and stood, rubbing that sore spot with a hurt expression on my face, turning to glare at the cruel grass which had not cushioned my fall. The grass attempted to look apologetic and failed miserably. I stuck my tongue out at it, then turned and flounced away in the most mature fashion I could think of, which ended up sending me crashing to the floor again on my step up into the house. I looked up to see my mother standing over me with hands on hips.

"I asked you to come help me." She glared and stalked in the direction of the kitchen, where apparently, according to her mumblings as she stalked away, the 'stupid movers' had put the bedclothes. I promptly forgot all about the markings on the cement and headed off after my mother before I faced her wrath yet again.

By the time I finished helping her, It was getting to be dusky outside. My mother sighed, realizing she wasn't going to get anything more done today, and sent me off to do something "creative." I ended up helping my father hook our ancient computer up, something I was quite good at despite my age. My understanding father realized I took pride in my computer-putting-together talents, and wisely left me to myself, giving me more time to think. I lay on my back on the carpet, hooking wires in merrily and mumbling to myself.

I'd always had a sense of when people were near, even when I couldn't see a thing, and just as I connected the keyboard, I felt someone standing beside my legs. Assuming it was my father, since my mother was all to busy unpacking dishes and silverware to concern herself with what I was doing, I spoke. "I'm almost finished here, and I'm pretty sure I got everything right." When I was met with silence, I smiled. "Don't worry dad, I didn't connect the keyboard where the monitor should go." I finished figuring out where the last wire should go and slid out from under the desk with a smile on my face, looking up at my father... or rather, where my father should have been.

I couldn't remember hearing the door close, to signify him leaving, but there was simply no one there. For that matter, as I thought back, I couldn't remember the door opening either. Strange that. I had a sort of photographic memory. I couldn't remember a thing when it came to studying for a test, but yet when I didn't concentrate and looked at things, I remembered every detail. I knew as I played the last few minutes over in my mind that if the door had opened I would have heard it. I also knew that I had distinctly felt someone in the room with me. Before I could ponder the matter further, I heard my mother calling to me that it was dinner time. I shook my head and hurried off to the table, which, thankfully, had just been set up.

After dinner, which consisted of hard boiled eggs my aunt had sent over and salad, I went to bed, knowing that I had another hard day of labor ahead of me. I settled my aching back into the mattress, but for some reason I couldn't sleep. Something was nagging at the back of my mind... something I'd forgotten to do. Suddenly I sat bolt upright. My book! I'd forgotten my book outside on the porch, and the sprinklers were coming on in the morning. I sprang up and then sat down again abruptly, reason for once taking over. I pulled on my fluffy terry cloth robe and some old bear slippers that didn't fit me anymore and I padded out the door, pausing to pick up the old fisher price flashlight that had always resided beside my bed for as long as I could remember.

I sneaked outside, hearing both my parents snoring, but I still didn't want to make noise and risk waking them from their 'beauty' sleep. I silently crept down the hall, managing to make as much noise on the creaky floorboards as the proverbial marching band. When I opened the back door, the squeaking and creaking it made would have woken Sleeping Beauty, but my parents snored on. I breathed a sigh of relief, then realized I'd been holding my breath. With a barely concealed laugh at myself and my own silliness, I ventured down the back steps and around the corner of the house. Illuminated in the moonlight shining down through the trees around the yard, was my book, sitting peaceably on the porch. I set my flashlight down, I hardly needed it on this bright a night, and I scooped up my precious book.

As I was about to turn to leave, my addled brain suddenly remembered the writing I'd seen on the cement. I turned with my flashlight dangling from one finger, and leaned over once more, looking down at the writing. I managed to once again make out John, beneath that the word 'loves', and what looked like another name, but the grass was obscuring everything but two letters, R, and N. "Rhonda?" I speculated. I certainly couldn't clear the grass away at night, groping in the dark, so I wisely decided to come back in the morning. I stood there for a moment, wondering out loud, but in a whisper. "John loves... John loves... John loves who?" I shrugged and shifted my book slightly to allow my hand a better grip of the flashlight.

As I was doing so, my 'I-sense-someone-near' meter went off again and I jumped, turning a full 360 degrees before satisfying myself that there was no one there. The air around me was suddenly cold, and I shivered even in my thick terry robe. I was not beyond imagining all sorts of awful things and I gulped. My frightened eyes stared out at the night, which seemed no longer beautiful and peaceful, but rather sinister and terrifying. I glanced for a brief moment at my path from the porch to the backdoor, and determined there was nothing dripping with swamp ooze standing in my way, and made a mad dash towards the door, almost tripping several times in the whole graceful procedure. I raced inside the door, which I'd thoughtfully left open, and closed it quickly behind me. Thankfully, even in my paranoid state, I maintained enough control to not slam it and wake my parents.

I leaned against the inside and sighed slightly, then almost laughed as the cool breeze came back and blew across my face. I made my way back to my room, slowly, and kicked off the slippers. They landed in a far corner of my room, and the terry cloth robe landed beside them. My own tired body landed on the mattress, and I managed to pull the covers up to my chin before closing my eyes. Before I drifted off, I remembered the breeze. I drowsily determined it must come from an open crack in my room somewhere, and I resolved to find it the next day. My mind however, informed me that it had already worked overtime and wasn't working a moment longer, and immediately shut down...sending me into a deep sleep.