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“The best thing about dreams is that fleeting moment, when you are between asleep and awake, when you don’t know the difference between reality and fantasy, when for just that one moment you feel with your entire soul that the dream is reality, and it really happened.”

22 Jan

The party was finally cleared out of my house.  My father, an aged man and the host of the impromptu rave, was returned to my mother’s home.  My home was picked clean of most of the signs by the partiers, as well as several trinkets of mine from the shelves.  With resign, I used my broom to shove the last three from my home– a man and two boys.  The man wore a black suit with brown loafers and had a sweet smile as I asked him repeatedly to leave.  One of the boys had a head of curly brown hair that was very dense and formed a halo about his face.  The other boy had long, straight black hair and the current fashion: girl jeans and a tight v-neck shirt with a jacket over top and a scarf.

“Please leave.” I asked repeatedly.  I glanced away nervously.  Only the curly-haired boy was not taller than I was, and these three smelled of trouble, despite their innocent demeanor. “This is my house, and my father’s not in his right mind.” I explained dumbly.

The man in the suit just chuckled.  I looked up to see a sneer on his face. “He told me the house was ours.  Just go home, you creepy girl, and honor your father’s wishes.”

Shock and cold settled inside my throat. “What?  No, I bought this house, my name is on the deed.  Please leave now, before I call the police.”

“Go right ahead.  Assert your authority.” His sneer turned into a grin, and the two boys on either side of him began to snicker.  I got them out of the house and began to lock it down.  I shooed them out each time they entered, until only my side door and window remained open.  They were more stubborn this time, and I looked out into the street.  Some police were present.

“Officers!  Please, help!” I cried loudly.  The police walked over, and all three of the invaders fled.  The boy with curly hair ran into my home, while the other boy and the man dashed out.  I let a police officer through to catch the boy with the curly hair, and closed the door and window in question while the other officer chased the straight-haired boy.  For a few short minutes, I felt safe.  I walked to my study and looked out the window.

With no little force, I threw the window open. “Wait!  What are you doing?”

“He got away!” The officer called up from my front walkway.  The straight-haired boy stood leaning against my front door, while the man in the suit looked up at me defiantly from the doorway.

My door opened, and the other officer delivered the curly-haired youth to my study. “Here he is, ma’am.”

Bewilderment dyed my face white as I looked outside at the cocky pair, then at the curly-haired boy who barely managed to contain a smile at my expense.

Both officers walked away, and I grabbed the boy near me by the shoulder. “Don’t waste your time.” The boy advised suddenly. “He’ll get what he wants.  Just go home to your dad, and you might not get hurt.” He sounded friendly, and I pulled him closer to myself as I looked out the door.  He winced as my knuckles became white. “He won’t hurt you if you just leave.”

“I can’t leave.” I managed as I watched the other boy moon the leaving officers.  I gripped Curly’s shirt.  It was striped blue and white, and dingy.  It was fairly obvious a hand-me-down from an age well-passed.

The man and the other boy entered my house.  They shut the front door behind them, and I hurried to the hall doors.  I would have at least part of my house to myself!  I locked both doors and dropped the key into my bra. “Ok… I have the full bathroom, a bedroom, and my study…” I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself, then noticed I still gripped Curly. “And you.” I had no idea what to do with this boy.  I was strong, but he looked strong, too.  I had only my knife, and I was hesitant to make it known yet. “You’re staying with me.” I managed.

There were paints in my study, and I used them to paint over each of the locks on my windows, save the one in the study that looked down on the door.  I could hold that one, I was sure.  Curly looked uncertain of what to do about my behavior, and when I finally released him, he stayed out of the way by settling into one of my study’s more comfortable chairs.

“Can I read one of the books in here?” he asked suddenly after I watched my front door for what felt like hours.  I was stiff all over.

“Ah.  Oh.  Sure.  Just be careful with the older ones, and try to steer away from the middle shelf.  Those books are rather important to me…” I trailed off as I heard a loud bang out the window.  I jerked my head to look.  The two free-roaming home-invaders were setting off small, street-legal fireworks in the drive.

Curly must have noticed my panting, because he snickered.

I whirled on him. “Shut up.  It isn’t fun-” I cut off as I noticed his head in a book of quotes.He was in the well-worn chapter about the previous president. “Never mind.” I managed with a sigh as I sat by the open window.  Each of his following snickers ground at my nerves as I slowly became numb to the fireworks.  The pair outside walked back in, when they finished playing with the explosives, and vanished from my sight as they closed the door.

Eventually, I dozed off.  I woke to pounding and looked around.  Curly was watching me from his seat.  Slowly, I stood up. “Don’t touch the window.” I warned as I closed it and locked it.  The mechanism got stuck easily, and I counted on it to delay the kid long enough for me to catch him if he tried to get out.  Slowly, I reached for the knife in my pocket and a two-foot-long pipe I once planned to use as the base for a sculpture I never made.  I glanced briefly at the rest of my art supplies and room, hopeful that I would find something else to use of less value.  The only thing was a four-foot walking stick that I picked up at my grandmother’s home several years ago.  It was thick and sturdy, if rough.  I glanced from pipe to stick, and decided that if I had my knife, I needed a weapon that I could use with one hand.  The pipe would do.  I poked my head from the door to see the doorknob at the end of the hall slowly turning.

Terror settled in, and I kicked the door, then stood ready.  The doorknob turned, and staring at me was the straight-haired boy who mooned the police. “Found you.” He grinned, and I whacked him with the pipe, right in his cunt face.

To be continued.

 

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Posted by on January 22, 2013 in Modern Fiction

 

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