into bed. The ceiling glared back at me as I lay there…thinking, trying to figure out a logical solution as to why these things were happening to me. Everything pointed to me going insane, and I didn’t want to go there.
It was four-thirty. I had been in there an hour and a half—it seemed like only minutes. Tate filled my head again. I couldn’t go back to sleep after this. No way. The storm raged outside, and hard rain slammed the house, pelting against my windows. My mind, still reeling with what had just happened, overcame me. I got lost in it, paying no attention to what was happening outside.
----
T he next morning , I loped down the stairs for breakfast. Matt and Mandy were up, sitting at the kitchen table. Mandy pushed the carton of orange juice toward me. “Did you survive the storm last night?”
“What storm? Oh…wait…yeah, I think I kinda remember hearing the wind, but that’s all. Did it get bad?”
Mandy watched while I buttered a piece of toast. “Well...yeah. It knocked the power out for a while, and we also lost a few tree branches.”
I grimaced. “Eww, hope there wasn’t too much damage.”
“No, Matt and I can get ‘em.” She got up, hauling breakfast dishes to the sink.
I didn’t say anything about what had happened last night. They’d think I’d gone loony. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m just going to hang out around the house today.” They didn’t need to know my real reason—to go back into that bedroom and investigate. “I have a headache and just want to rest.”
“No, that’s fine, ya party pooper. Matt and I can find something to do. Can’t we, Matt?”
“We sure can.” A crooked leer pulled his face to the side. He followed her to the sink and reached toward her, gathering her in a tight hug. “I can think of lots of things to do.” His eyebrows raised in a playful manner.
He grabbed her butt and gave it a fast, tight squeeze. She slapped his hand. “Matthew Cobain! That’s not what I was meaning. We need to go wedding shopping. It’s not far off, you know.”
She paused and put her hands on her hips, eyeing me with brown, narrowed slits. “Wait a minute. You’re not going to look for Tate again, are you?” Her voice dropped to a suspicious low. Fingers drumming on her hipbones, she bit the inside of her lip, waiting for my answer.
I laughed, holding up my hands in surrender. “He’s gone…out of my mind. You won’t have to worry about that anymore.”
“Alright, just checking. I didn’t think you would. He’s not worth it.” She gave me a final glare before she closed the door.
I peeked through the curtain, making sure they’d left before I snuck back upstairs. My stomach stirred, going through Mandy’s things didn’t feel right, but I had to have a look around that room in daylight.
I opened the door, and the musty smell attacked my nose. The shaving cream aroma had vanished. In the dull light coming in from one grim window, cobwebs flanked the entire room, draping down like the tentacles of a jellyfish. Dust covered the dresser, the bedside table, the floor, and the windowsill.
My bare footprints from last night were still settled in the dust. I looked up. A large Victorian chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling—a few of the glass jewels missing, one dark lightbulb dangling.
I walked to the dresser, inspecting it. It was like any other old dresser—full of wear, with nicks and scrapes dirtying up the stain and varnish. I opened the top drawer, and a black spider scurried to its safe haven, its web stitched like a no-trespassing-zone from corner to corner.
Startled from the furry, eight-legged creature, I pushed it closed and began opening the next one down, when something in the back of the top drawer caught my eye—something shiny sticking out of the crack where the drawer fit together. It glared in the shallow light, no thicker than a piece of paper. Even with the snarling spider, I pressed my lips together
It was four-thirty. I had been in there an hour and a half—it seemed like only minutes. Tate filled my head again. I couldn’t go back to sleep after this. No way. The storm raged outside, and hard rain slammed the house, pelting against my windows. My mind, still reeling with what had just happened, overcame me. I got lost in it, paying no attention to what was happening outside.
----
T he next morning , I loped down the stairs for breakfast. Matt and Mandy were up, sitting at the kitchen table. Mandy pushed the carton of orange juice toward me. “Did you survive the storm last night?”
“What storm? Oh…wait…yeah, I think I kinda remember hearing the wind, but that’s all. Did it get bad?”
Mandy watched while I buttered a piece of toast. “Well...yeah. It knocked the power out for a while, and we also lost a few tree branches.”
I grimaced. “Eww, hope there wasn’t too much damage.”
“No, Matt and I can get ‘em.” She got up, hauling breakfast dishes to the sink.
I didn’t say anything about what had happened last night. They’d think I’d gone loony. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m just going to hang out around the house today.” They didn’t need to know my real reason—to go back into that bedroom and investigate. “I have a headache and just want to rest.”
“No, that’s fine, ya party pooper. Matt and I can find something to do. Can’t we, Matt?”
“We sure can.” A crooked leer pulled his face to the side. He followed her to the sink and reached toward her, gathering her in a tight hug. “I can think of lots of things to do.” His eyebrows raised in a playful manner.
He grabbed her butt and gave it a fast, tight squeeze. She slapped his hand. “Matthew Cobain! That’s not what I was meaning. We need to go wedding shopping. It’s not far off, you know.”
She paused and put her hands on her hips, eyeing me with brown, narrowed slits. “Wait a minute. You’re not going to look for Tate again, are you?” Her voice dropped to a suspicious low. Fingers drumming on her hipbones, she bit the inside of her lip, waiting for my answer.
I laughed, holding up my hands in surrender. “He’s gone…out of my mind. You won’t have to worry about that anymore.”
“Alright, just checking. I didn’t think you would. He’s not worth it.” She gave me a final glare before she closed the door.
I peeked through the curtain, making sure they’d left before I snuck back upstairs. My stomach stirred, going through Mandy’s things didn’t feel right, but I had to have a look around that room in daylight.
I opened the door, and the musty smell attacked my nose. The shaving cream aroma had vanished. In the dull light coming in from one grim window, cobwebs flanked the entire room, draping down like the tentacles of a jellyfish. Dust covered the dresser, the bedside table, the floor, and the windowsill.
My bare footprints from last night were still settled in the dust. I looked up. A large Victorian chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling—a few of the glass jewels missing, one dark lightbulb dangling.
I walked to the dresser, inspecting it. It was like any other old dresser—full of wear, with nicks and scrapes dirtying up the stain and varnish. I opened the top drawer, and a black spider scurried to its safe haven, its web stitched like a no-trespassing-zone from corner to corner.
Startled from the furry, eight-legged creature, I pushed it closed and began opening the next one down, when something in the back of the top drawer caught my eye—something shiny sticking out of the crack where the drawer fit together. It glared in the shallow light, no thicker than a piece of paper. Even with the snarling spider, I pressed my lips together
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