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ratman's blog: "Rick's Writings"

created on 01/14/2007  |  http://fubar.com/rick-s-writings/b44409

In Dreams

In Dreams Michael Talbot looked around the living room of the two room apartment. He had unpacked several boxes, but there was still plenty left to unpack. His back hurt, and his eyes burned. Running his hand through his graying black hair, he decided it could wait until tomorrow. After all, this was his new life. Monday morning, he would be starting a new job, in a new city. The price of lust of a one night stand. Damn, he threw away his wife and kids, for a few moments of pleasure. First he was mad at Irene for wanting the divorce. Screamed at her, threatened her. Deep down, he new he had committed the sin. The infidelity to the marriage vows. The little bald headed pug nose judge agreed. She got the house, the car, alimony and child support. To beat matters, he only gets to see his two kids, once a month. Mike moved into a motel in town. Finally, seeing an ad for an apartment, a forty minute drive from his current city, he called, seen the apartment, it was nice and in a nice enough building to, it even had a doorman. He decided to take it. He sighed, and stepped into the bathroom to take a shower. Stripping down to his underwear he adjusted the water, and then turned on the shower. Letting the water run, he stepped over to the bathroom mirror and looked at himself. Graying hair. Pushing forty-five. Starting a new life, in a new city, at a new job. He turned from the mirror, not wanting to look any more. Taking off his underwear, he stepped in the shower. She kissed him. He gently caressed her face, kissing her tenderly on the lips. Falling against him pushing him back against the bed pillows, her dark hair fanning around his face. She arched her back taking his face in both hands; she pressed her mouth tightly on top of his. He parted his lips, as her tongue found his mouth, sliding inside. Putting his arms around her, he ran his hands up her back, as they rolled over. He ran his hands up to her shoulders. Mike opened his eyes. The pretty face of the girl was covered in blood. It ran down her face, onto her night gown. She looked frightened. She ran her hands up her face and into her hair, making it a bloody mess. The blood was coming from her arms. Her wrists were bleeding. It was his own scream that had awakened him. His body was drenched in sweat. The bed clothes were in disarray. Running his hand though his sweat wet hair, he sat up. The gray light of dawn was coming in through the white curtains of the bedroom window. Throwing back the crumpled sheets, he climbed out of bed. His feet hitting the cold floor, as he went into the bathroom. The city was alive this Friday morning, as he made his way down the street. Horns honking. Kids yelling on their way to school. The food aromas were reaching his nose, making his stomach growl. Seeing the little all night diner, he stepped in. Coffee brewing hit his nose, along with the smell of cooking eggs and frying sausage and bacon. Spotting an empty booth at the back, he headed there and slid across the vinyl seat and picked up the grease and coffee stained menu. Taking the pack of Marlboro out of his coat pocket, he took one out and laid them on the table top. He took out his lighter and lit the cigarette as the older, skanky looking waitress walked over to his table. "What'll it be?" "I'll start with coffee." "You got it." She turned and left the table, as Mike turned his attention back to the menu. He decided on eggs over easy and a side of sausage. The waitress returned with his coffee, and he ordered the eggs. As he sat and sipped his coffee while he smoked, the dream was beginning to fade, unleashing its hold on his mind. The waitress returned with his breakfast. "Anything else?" "That's it for now." He picked up his toast, as the waitress left the table. Mike broke the yoke on his egg, with his toast, soaking up the yellow yoke with his toast. And took a bite. The eggs and toast were good. The cool air hit him as he left the diner. Foot traffic was heavy on the downtown side walks. He found himself remembering some old song. "Downtown." By Petula Clark, remembered dancing to it with Irene. Pushing the memory away, he wished he could spend some leisure time checking out the stores. But, he had unpacking to finish and he did not like to put things off. Lighting another cigarette, he headed back to his apartment. He had unpacked a good share of the boxes. There weren't a lot of them. Not much too really show of his life, and 17 year marriage. But of course, the little bald judge had seen to that. Remember? His own fault, he reminded himself. Outside, night had fallen, and the apartment had taken on a chill. Picking the matches up off the fireplace mantel, he struck a match and lit the fire in the fireplace. As the fire caught, he stood with his back to it, feeling the heat. It seemed the apartment was growing colder. Turning from the fireplace he went to sit in his easy chair. She stepped out of the bedroom, going to stand by the fireplace. Running her hand over the mahogany mantel, she looked at him. He smiled at her. Tonight she was dressed in a short negligee, which hung above her knees. The legs smooth and shiny, as if she had just shaved them. "Darling." She said, removing her hand from the mantel, she slowly walked across the room to him. As she walked, the dim light in the living room, shown through her see through garment. How tempting her body looked. He ached for her. She slid onto his lap, bending down to put her lips on his. As she did, he noticed the sweet smell of her perfume. He slid his hands under her negligee, running his hands up her back. The phone began to ring. Mike opened his eyes, finding himself alone in the apartment, with a few boxes scattered around the room. The phone continued ringing. Getting up, he went into the kitchen to get the phone. "Hello?" he said, grabbing the receiver. "Karen?" "Do I sound like Karen?" "Sorry, wrong number." Mike replaced the receiver. Then looking around the kitchen, he grabbed the number for the pizza restaurant off the counter and picked up the receiver. "Dominique's." "I'd like to order a pepperoni pizza. Large." "Okay. Pick up, or delivery?" "Ah, delivery." "Okay. Address?" "557 Broaden Street, apartment 825." "Phone number?" "555-9087" "Okay, that'll be 30 minutes." Replacing the receiver he went back into the living room. The blazing fire in the hearth had knocked the chill off in the living room. The girl again came to his dream. Thinking of the dream, he felt her kiss still on his lips. Thinking of it, she filled him with longing and desire. At the same time, a feeling of dread and horror. Pushing the dream from his mind, he looked around the living room. Only a few boxes remained. Just odds and ends. He had unpacked most of the major things and put them away. Looking at the clock on the mantel, he saw that it was a quarter after nine. The unpacking was done for the night, he would finish tomorrow. Soon, there was a knock on the door. Good, his dinner had arrived. She stepped out of the shower; he wrapped the towel around her. Her hair cascaded down her bare shoulders, and onto the towel. Mike caressed her shoulders, feeling her soft smooth skin under his hands. Bending down he softly kissed her shoulders, then moved up to her neck. She moaned, as he continued, his desire for her filling his being with passion. The scent of the strawberry passion shampoo she had used on her hair, excited his senses even more. Moving to her lips, he grabbed her wet hair, letting it slide through his fingers. On the stereo in the living room, Petula Clark sang "Downtown," as their passions stirred. Her tender lips found his, as she slid her tongue into his mouth. They moved around in the bathroom, falling against the sink. As he pulled her tightly to him, she was a bloody mess. Blood dripped from her arms. Ruining her hands over her face, she left bloody smears and running her hands and wrists through her hair. Blood streaked her pretty dark hair. He awoke with a start, drenched in sweat. His hair was matted with it. The bed clothes were in disarray. Getting up, he hurried into the bathroom. Turning on the light, he looked at himself in the mirror. He was in need of a shave, but he just wanted to be out of the apartment and down in the street. The dream had really unnerved him. More than the first one had. Three dreams of this girl. When he thought about her, his desire for her sickened him. Who was she? Why was he dreaming of her? It was somebody he had never met before. Not important, he just wanted to leave the apartment. Maybe go back to the diner, get some breakfast. It was already five in the morning. Turning from the mirror, he stepped out into the bedroom to get dressed. He stepped into the elevator, pushing the button for the lobby. As the doors began to close, an old woman tried to get into the elevator, Mike held the doors. The old woman stepped in. Her head was covered in a black cloth. Her bony fingers pushed the button for the fifth floor. He smiled at her, but didn't know if she smiled back at him, as her head was covered. The doors closed and Mike felt the elevator begin to move. The old woman was silent as she looked up at the floor numbers. "Been getting some cold nights," he said. The old woman made no response. Soon, they came to the 5th floor, and as the doors slid open the old woman stepped through them. Stopping she turned around. "What did you dream about, last night?" She asked, in a little whisper. Then she turned and got out of the elevator, and stepped down the hall. Mike caught the doors as they began to close and quickly stepped into the hall. She was gone. He moved down the hall where he seen her go. The floor looked like in was under renovation. Plastic sheets hung down in front of doors and paint buckets sat on tarps. "Hello?" he said as he moved down the hallway. "Where'd you go?" One of the covered apartment doors opened, and a maintenance man stepped out into the hall, looking at him. "Help you?" "I'm looking for a little old lady; she just got out on this floor." The man looked down the hall and back at him. "That's odd if she did. There are no tenants on this floor, at the present. I didn't see anyone but you today." A numb horror gripped him, and turned in his stomach like a writhing snake. He turned and headed back down the hall in the direction of the elevators, as fast as his legs would carry him. Reaching the elevators, he pushed the button and waited. Soon the doors dinged open, and he stepped inside. His heart did a flip in his chest. The girl was standing in the back of the elevator. "Hello, darling." She said, smiling at him. Mike blinked, but she was gone. He stepped into the elevator; his nerves were a jumble of electric wires. He pushed the button for the lobby. He really had to get the hell out of this building. Get out with the people. Away from here. The doors closed, and he was relieved to feel the elevator begin slipping between floors. Outside the red ball of the rising sun was lighting up the cold October morning, as he stepped out of the building. The sounds of the traffic were very light today. Of course, it was Sunday. A lot of people would be up later, going to church. Breakfast with their family. It wouldn't get really busy probably until the afternoon. He headed in the direction of the diner. Mike felt like he was the only one up at this early hour. The sidewalks were empty. He reached the diner and stepped inside. The warm air and the smell of coffee and cooking eggs greeted him warmly. The sounds and sight of the other diners relaxed him a little, as he found a booth and slid in. After eating his breakfast and stepping back out into the chilly city, he headed back toward his apartment to finish up with the unpacking. Over the next couple of days, he would take a little walk downtown, and check out some of the stores. Reaching his apartment, he stepped inside. Addison the door man smiled at him. "Hello, sir." "Hello. Addison, isn't it?" "Ah yes. You do have a mind for faces." "Hey Addison, I was wondering. Did you see a little old lady earlier? Dressed in black, and with her face covered?" Addison smiled at him, as he crossed his hands in front of his waist. "No. Can't say that I did." He smiled, raising his eyebrows. "Like them older, do ya?" he smiled more, showing his chicklet teeth, raising his eyebrows up and down. "Huh? Huh?" "Ah, no. She had asked me a question earlier, and I thought that I could talk to her." "Oh I see. Well, if I see anyone like that, I'll let them know that you're looking for them." The lobby doors opened and an older couple entered, Addison turned to greet them. Mike turned and went to the elevators. He pushed the button and waited. Soon, one of the doors dinged open. Getting in he pushed the button for the 8th floor. The doors closed and he felt the elevator jerk into life and begin its climb. The elevator soon stopped on the 8th floor, and the doors dinged open. He stepped out into the red carpeted hallway. It was empty. Walking in the direction of his apartment, he could hear some one's T.V. Reaching his door, he took his keys out and unlocked his apartment and entered. Looking around the living room, he looked at the few boxes that remained. Not many, so it shouldn't take long. Just some things that could be stored in the closet, and put away on shelves. It was still early in the afternoon. When he got done, he might have time to take a little walk downtown. Humming to himself, he went and got started. Opening the first box which was kitchen utensils, he took it into the kitchen. He set it down on the counter, and then opened the drawers near the sink, putting the things away. That done he went back to the other boxes. The next box was just some knickknacks' that he and Irene had collected over the years. Closing the lid, he thought about tossing them out. He decided to just put them in the closet instead. Carrying the box over to the closet, he sat it down and opened the sliding door. Setting the box down on the floor, he noticed a picture frame pushed up against the wall. Pushing the box to the back of the closet, he picked up the frame. Closing the closet door, he turned the frame over and looked at it and froze. Staring back at him from the black and white shot, was the young woman that has been invading his dreams. Taking the frame over to his desk and sitting down, he removed the back of the frame. The name on the back of the picture, written in ink read: Elizabeth Barker. The year under the name had faded. Lying the picture down, he turned back to look at the boxes. They would have to wait. He turned on his laptop and picked up the picture. Once the laptop was ready, he clicked the internet icon, and typed in Elizabeth Barker in the search box. Pages of things came up. Names of web sites, ancestors searches. Scrolling he found the name archived in the local paper. He clicked on it, bringing up the article. From 1965. The young woman had been found dead in her apartment in the bath tub. Her wrists had been cut. First police ruled a suicide. But with the insistent pressure from her mother, they did a small investigation. Still ruling suicide in the young woman's death. The woman's elderly mother that had discovered her daughter's body had also passed away. A chill ran down his back. The girl's elderly mother. The old woman in the elevator. "Get a hold of yourself." He said. "They're just dreams. The woman was someone else." "What did you dream about last night?" her whisper ran through his mind. Closing the lid on the laptop, he got up from his desk. Feeling foolish over his fear, he returned to his boxes. He turned his thoughts to the boxes and to his new job that he would be starting in the morning. Hearing the water running in the bathroom he got out of bed. Stopping outside of the bathroom door, he listened. He heard the bath tub filling and some splashing. He opened the door and stepped in. She looked at him. He smiled. She raised her arm, bringing up the razor blade. Before he could react, she dug deep into her wrist. Coming out of his daze, he reached her, but not in time to stop her from cutting her other wrist. She stepped out of the bloody tub as blood ran down her arms and dripped from her beautiful wet body. She smiled at him. "Why do you haunt my dreams?" "Dreams? You're not dreaming." She smiled, walking towards him. He backed into the door. "Join me darling." She brought the razor up and into his throat. Smiling as he slid to the floor struggling, she knelt in front of him. "Now, we'll always be together my love."
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