Thursday, February 25, 2010

Fright

I'm sitting at the end of a dark hallway. Only a thin sliver of illumination slips through the long narrow window of my door. Splashing briefly on the floor, it is quickly swallowed up by the shaddows.

I look outside. The gray haze drifts through the barren trees. I hear footsteps in the hallway . . .

It's a perfect set up for a horror movie, don't you think? I think. Sometimes. Mostly I prefer to grunt and throw things.

There is a loud knock at my door. I jump out of my skin, having transfixed on the foggy trees, everything else has drained from my perception.

"What!" I call out, irritated. The florescent lighting reflects against the glass, causing it to go opaque. I wait for an answer. There is none. There never is.

I sigh and stand up. I open the door. There is no one there, only the slight odor of kimchi lingers in the frigid hallway air.
"Fucking kids." I mutter and sit back down. I have extremely important episodes of Desperate Housewives to watch at work. How dare anyone interrupt that.

I've just settled back down when a skeletal-wrinkled-Terri-Hatcher-in-lingerie-scene comes out of nowhere, searing itself my retinas.
I cover my eyes too late and scream at the top of my lungs, spilling my popcorn all over my lap and the floor, "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! The hoooooorrrrrrooooorrr!"

I peek through my fingers, still screaming. The scene is over. I sigh gratefully, my head spinning with relief. As I stoop to kick the popcorn in the general direction of the trash can, something catches my eye.

I turn to the window, a gaping maw listlessly displaying scenes of iniquity from the outside world.
I squint at the trees. "That wasn't there before . . . "

There is something emaciated and shriveled hanging from one of the branches.
I see a bit of lace and my blood freezes.
"Please! Please don't let that thing be Terri Hatcher in lingerie!" I implore my silent, empty office. My voice quavers and echoes off the walls as I wait, watch and hope.
There is no answer. There never is.

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