the
boogey man in the backyard just now. Can you come down and have a look?”
He’d have me locked up for
sure. Flashes of lightning poked out from under his door and the door to my
mother’s sewing room. I was momentarily tempted to sneak into her sewing room
to see if I could catch another glimpse of whoever I’d seen from the kitchen,
but the greater part of me didn’t want to in the end and besides Dad hadn’t
finished cleaning up in there anyway.
The floorboards creaked
under my careful steps as I snuck back to my bedroom. I paused at the top of
the stairs, shining the flashlight down them again. There was nothing there, no
shadow lurking just around the corner, no movement to catch my eye. I slipped into
my room and closed the door. I locked it too, and then sat down on the edge of
the bed. I turned off the flashlight and laid it on my bedside table before I
crawled back into bed, and drew myself sitting into the corner. It was
ridiculous and I felt all of five years old, but I knew what I’d seen. While I
couldn’t make out any features in the face, I definitely saw someone right
there against the window.
I hugged my pillow tight and
rested my cheek against the wall while the hail continued to pound away at the
house.
*****
“Janice?” A tentative voice
followed a gentle rap. “Janice, it’s time to get up and get ready for church.”
Groggy and disoriented, my
head throbbed like the aftermath of a hangover. I wiped the drool from the
corner of my mouth and pushed off the wall I’d cuddled up to. My neck ached
from falling asleep sitting upright, and that ache throbbed through my head
awfully.
He knocked a little louder
then, and said, “Jannie, come on. Church starts in an hour.”
Church? My father had never
been an enthusiastic churchgoer, often worming his way out of attending on
Sunday mornings while my mother drug me off to Sunday School, and then made me
sit stiffly beside her while Pastor Crane preached the Sunday morning service.
As I’d mentioned to Pastor Crane, I really hadn’t set foot in a church since
I’d left Sonesville. My mother’s funeral service had been the first, and I had
no intention of making a Sunday morning habit of it just because I was back in
town.
“I don’t go to church
anymore, Dad.” I scooted down into the sheets and drew the blankets up under my
chin to warm away the morning’s chill.
“Well, everyone will be
expecting to see you there.” He added, “I’ll take you out for brunch after.”
Since when did he care about
keeping up appearances, especially when it came to church? Had my mom made him
go after I left, dressing him up each Sunday and dragging him along beside her?
I lifted a hand to my forehead and massaged the creases in my brow before
moving my fingers along the stiffness of my own neck.
“I want to get there before
all the good seats are taken,” he urged.
“Good seats?” I muttered.
“What have you done with my father?”
“Coffee’s on,” came his
reply.
“Oh, all right!” I supposed
there was only one way to find out what the aliens did with my father, and
after all, it was only one Sunday. Brunch would give me a chance to talk to Dad
about several things, like the bizarre person I’d seen in the back yard, and of
course my need to return to my job and the city. I hadn’t even mentioned that I
was planning to leave that afternoon, but I was sure he wouldn’t be surprised.
“I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
I felt even number as I
filed into church. Everyone had their eye on me, as though they were trying to
determine whether or not I would pass out like I did at the funeral. I managed
to smile at everyone I made eye contact with, but on the inside it felt like a
nightmare. Unfortunately there was no waking from it, especially every time we
were expected to rise with our hymnals to sing our praises unto the Lord. I
kept glancing sidelong at my father, waiting for tentacles to sprout from
boogey man in the backyard just now. Can you come down and have a look?”
He’d have me locked up for
sure. Flashes of lightning poked out from under his door and the door to my
mother’s sewing room. I was momentarily tempted to sneak into her sewing room
to see if I could catch another glimpse of whoever I’d seen from the kitchen,
but the greater part of me didn’t want to in the end and besides Dad hadn’t
finished cleaning up in there anyway.
The floorboards creaked
under my careful steps as I snuck back to my bedroom. I paused at the top of
the stairs, shining the flashlight down them again. There was nothing there, no
shadow lurking just around the corner, no movement to catch my eye. I slipped into
my room and closed the door. I locked it too, and then sat down on the edge of
the bed. I turned off the flashlight and laid it on my bedside table before I
crawled back into bed, and drew myself sitting into the corner. It was
ridiculous and I felt all of five years old, but I knew what I’d seen. While I
couldn’t make out any features in the face, I definitely saw someone right
there against the window.
I hugged my pillow tight and
rested my cheek against the wall while the hail continued to pound away at the
house.
*****
“Janice?” A tentative voice
followed a gentle rap. “Janice, it’s time to get up and get ready for church.”
Groggy and disoriented, my
head throbbed like the aftermath of a hangover. I wiped the drool from the
corner of my mouth and pushed off the wall I’d cuddled up to. My neck ached
from falling asleep sitting upright, and that ache throbbed through my head
awfully.
He knocked a little louder
then, and said, “Jannie, come on. Church starts in an hour.”
Church? My father had never
been an enthusiastic churchgoer, often worming his way out of attending on
Sunday mornings while my mother drug me off to Sunday School, and then made me
sit stiffly beside her while Pastor Crane preached the Sunday morning service.
As I’d mentioned to Pastor Crane, I really hadn’t set foot in a church since
I’d left Sonesville. My mother’s funeral service had been the first, and I had
no intention of making a Sunday morning habit of it just because I was back in
town.
“I don’t go to church
anymore, Dad.” I scooted down into the sheets and drew the blankets up under my
chin to warm away the morning’s chill.
“Well, everyone will be
expecting to see you there.” He added, “I’ll take you out for brunch after.”
Since when did he care about
keeping up appearances, especially when it came to church? Had my mom made him
go after I left, dressing him up each Sunday and dragging him along beside her?
I lifted a hand to my forehead and massaged the creases in my brow before
moving my fingers along the stiffness of my own neck.
“I want to get there before
all the good seats are taken,” he urged.
“Good seats?” I muttered.
“What have you done with my father?”
“Coffee’s on,” came his
reply.
“Oh, all right!” I supposed
there was only one way to find out what the aliens did with my father, and
after all, it was only one Sunday. Brunch would give me a chance to talk to Dad
about several things, like the bizarre person I’d seen in the back yard, and of
course my need to return to my job and the city. I hadn’t even mentioned that I
was planning to leave that afternoon, but I was sure he wouldn’t be surprised.
“I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
I felt even number as I
filed into church. Everyone had their eye on me, as though they were trying to
determine whether or not I would pass out like I did at the funeral. I managed
to smile at everyone I made eye contact with, but on the inside it felt like a
nightmare. Unfortunately there was no waking from it, especially every time we
were expected to rise with our hymnals to sing our praises unto the Lord. I
kept glancing sidelong at my father, waiting for tentacles to sprout from
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