Hello friends!!
I hope everyone is doing well. I am absolutely exhausted! No proper sleep to be had over the past week and a half, but it’s not unusual. I have a loud brain. I’m sure many of you can relate!
We are awaiting a new little member of our family. Her name is Fleur and I cannot wait to meet her. Her poor mamma is ready to get on with it, too! And of course, dad and the cutest little big sister that will have ever graced this planet, Willow, are very excited, as well. So that is pretty exciting for us.
Anyway, I thought that today I’d share a little of the first chapter of one story I’m working on. Right now it’s just called Ghost Story, but that is only because I do not have a title in mind. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!
Chapter One
Tick... tick... tick... tick... the ticking of the clock beats like a steady drum, permeating through my brain. The ghost of the blood that once ran through me and a beat where my now shriveled heart once pumped, plump and full of life. Tick... tick... tick... the sounds grows louder in my ears. But all the while it sits.
Still in the corner of my room. At first, maybe a shadow? But as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see it. What the hell is it? A shadow is a dark black void. But this? This is the opposite. It’s a solid white mass. A structural being. Watching me. But how? It has no eyes, but somehow I know it sees me.
With each tick of the clock, a slight turn of its head. But otherwise it never seems to move. Except for one other thing. Every day, it seems like it gets a little closer. Always in the same spot, but somehow, closer. Nothing has terrified me more. But every night it’s here.
I feel like I haven’t slept in years, not properly anyway. A few minutes here and there. My head is always hurting, and I feel like I’m constantly on edge. Every little noise makes me jump. I know this thing is out to get me, but my friends, my husband. They insist it isn’t real.
Two weeks ago, I had enough and scheduled an appointment with a psychologist, Dr. Joyce Lemon. I chose her because her named sounded happy. A feeling I can hardly remember, but enough so that I know that I’d like to experience it again.
I sat on the floral sofa, across from a tall brunette woman with a vacant smile and a notepad in her hands. She looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to explain myself. Wanting me to explain to her why I was here. In her particular office, on this particular Tuesday morning. I fidgeted with the hem of my dress, shifting uncomfortably, wondering where to start. I am going to sound crazy, I just know it.
But then, maybe I am crazy, right? The things I’ve seen and experienced that aren’t real. Is it? The woman leans forward in her chair. This time she makes actual eye contact. My thoughts race. I’m just so worried about telling anyone these things. But this is something I’ve been dealing with for forty-two years of my life. Since I was a child. It’s something generational and horrific. It’s something that I fear can get me taken away from my husband, my children, and I fear I’d be locked away in a state psychiatric center.
“Rose, You know I’m here to listen only. You have nothing to fear. Nothing you say will leave this room.” Dr. Lemon smiles gently.
No comments:
Post a Comment