I signed up for a lot of the local writer's festival (lots going on in July), and tonight's was as the title says, and hosted by Lizzie Van Bakel.
She gave us three prompts:
1. Buried alive.
2. Something is following you in the dark.
3. There's a knock on the glass, but not on a window--on a mirror.
Later, I was asked what was up with writing on tiny pieces of paper (because I left my notebook at home and this was in my desk at work); I quite like the process of it, I've discovered.
I was also complemented on how nice my handwriting is (it looks pretty); try and read it. Even I stumbled over it reading it out loud.
Yes, I read out loud. I am forcing myself to put myself out there.
We were told to write about what makes you uncomfortable; maybe there's a horror story in there...
Without further ado, here is what was jotted down tonight:
Lisa May walked home the same route every night. Alone in the silence was usual. Company was not. And Lisa May was sure that she had company.
Her company was behind her, and to the left. Sometimes to the right. But never directly behind her, not even to switch from left to right, which didn't make any sense. And it was switches. For a very short time, Lisa May thought that maybe she had more than one company, but that wasn't right, either.
The left and the right never made noise at the same time, and one never had to catch up to the other in terms of relative difference. The trade-off was swift, silent, and a well-oiled machine.
She turned around, and as she looked at the behind her to the left, and to the behind her to the right, and to the behind her behind her, or in front of her now, but definitely not the way forward, she thought of the pictures going around online of the differences between what men see versus what women see when they're walking on a dark foggy street. Men see straight ahead. Like predators. Women see with great peripheral detail. Like prey.
Lisa May nailed the peripheral vision test for good reason. And, she was using all of that peripheral vision power now.
Nothing. Abject silence. And a cool breeze that didn't even dare to ruffle a leaf.
Lisa May turned around. Forward. The way home, not the way back.
She stood still.
So, too, did her company.
Maybe her company flew away. Maybe it had just been a bird.
That walked behind her.
"Well that makes no sense, Lisa May," she muttered.
She started walking. Forward. Eyes straight ahead, but seeing almost 180 degrees, like her vision was a wall beside her, pushing on anything that she walked past. Her ears, if they could swivel, would have been turning behind her to hear the other 180 degrees. But of course, human ears don't swivel. They shouldn't. That would be creepy.
Lisa May paused, took in a deep breath, and held it. Exhaled slowly. No movement. No noise.
One step forward on the next inhale. No noise. No company. Well, no evidence of company.
No physical evidence of company.
No outside physical evidence of company. Did the hairs standing up on the back of your neck count as physical evidence? Or was that something else? Psychic evidence? A hunch? A third eye?
Lisa May's neck felt like that time she was in an MRI. One more of the many tests. But nothing else, so one foot in front of the other, Lisa May kept walking. She made it to the next turn of the path. Left, then right, around a tree that no one would cut down.
Company, behind her and to the left. She focused. Company, on the ground, and behind her and to the left. Then, immediately and without pause, company behind her and to the right. But not on the ground. And not on the left. But definitely the same distance behind her as the Left had been.
"Maybe I'm being stalked by a squirrel and a bird?" she breathed, quietly.
Lisa May walked faster. Her company got closer, but this time, only on the Left, and almost imperceptible. She walked faster and with purpose, head held high. Head with the headache forming in the one spot above her right eye. The headache that was the reason for all the many tests.
She read somewhere that if you walk without fear, chances are less that you will be prey.
~
That's as far as I got. A few things to flesh out. There's a sentence on the third piece of paper that's bracketed and marked "later". Is it a bird and a squirrel. Or "not a squirrel! NOT A SQUIRREL OH MY GOD NOT A SQUIRREL!!"? Is it straight up horror of the human kind? Fantasy? Aliens?
I don't even know yet what follows Lisa May.
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