I listened to her talking, but something was off. Her voice was the same, but the way she talked…it wasn’t like her “-and yeah, so could you please come. Soon? Like, right now?” That wasn’t like her. She would have said something like “Could you please come as soon as possible?” But not that. I decided to ask her a question. “When did we meet? And do we want to marry, it yes, when?” The voice on the other side hesitated. “Why do you want to know?” “Just tell me.” “…ok. We met on the 4.8.2022. We want to marry on the 6.9.2025” I listened. I knew it wasn’t my girlfriend from the beginning. “The marrying part is right”, i started, “but me and my girlfriend met on the 6.2.2022.”

But who is the person on the other side of the phone?

Ring-ring! Ring-ring! Joan: Hey grill! Laura: Hi girl! Wait, did you say grill? Joan: stutters creepily N-n-n-noooo Laura: Are you OK? Joan: Yes. Laura: Ok. Joan: Do you want to play with me? Laura: What’s going on with you? Joan: Hehehe…. Laura: Joan you are going crazy. Joan: Turn around. Laura: Ok… turns around AAAHAHHAHAHHAH. silence Joan: Hehehe…

The sun was roaring directly overhead, and even a blind man would know it. This day was a scorcher, and the girls had planned to spend it in the pool. Just after 9 I told Natalie that I’d needed to spend some time at the office, and her eyes burned into me hotter than the sun. It was a Saturday, a family day, but she knew that this deal was huge.

Microsoft was building a new Tampa office and liked to hire local architects where they built, and the it couldn’t have happened at a better time. The firm was pretty much being kept alive solely by this project. She was wrapping up breakfast for the kids, and I gave them all a kiss on the head before taking off in my khaki shorts and sweat wicking shirt.

The walk from the house to the car, combined with the time for the car to cool, had put some sweat in my pitts. Nothing new, we’d been living here all our lives, but it still managed to piss me off. I couldn’t even drive to the office without getting a little sweaty, and thankfully everyone was adjusted to it here, otherwise early morning client meetings would be pretty uncomfortable.

I made a couple of lefts and a handful of rights and was out of our neighborhood. The house we lived in was a far cry from the structures I designed, and was in no way like the houses the movies would have you believe that architects live in. I was probably 10 minutes into my commute, stuck in traffic on highway 91, when Natalie’s name appeared on my phone. I answered, secretly frustrated I couldn’t even have the drive to myself, but happy that if she’d wanted to talk we would get it out of the way before I got into my work.

“Hey what’s up?” I said before she got a chance to speak. The phone sounded like it was on speaker when she spoke, and I inferred from a hundred similar calls before that she was in the living room. The acoustics were noticeably different from the rest of the house.

“Hey Cliff, I need you to turn around and come back. Stevie is throwing a fit that you’re not here, and refuses to stop crying.” There was an uncertainty in her voice, and it seemed like she was nervous more than irritated, which is what I would’ve expected would be paired with an upset Stevie. I paused and chose my words carefully, my grandmother taught me to choose my battles wisely.

“Honey you know how behind I am on this project and-“ she cut me off before I could finish. “Cliff I get it but I am not taking no for an answer, I need you here. Now Ralph is using it on the neighbors lawn again. Just hurry back.” The phone made a beeping tone between my hand and ear, and I brought it down to a few inches in front of my waist. I held a confused gaze at the traffic in front of me for a moment and ordinarily would have contemplated what to do for the next few minutes. But the problem, the thing that rang out from the phone and into my ear, our dog’s name is Roger.

I peeled out of the middle lane as soon as there was an opening and got off of the highway. I took the local road which snakes through a few neighborhoods but I wagered was faster than dealing with the highway again. I tried calling back, as the fear sunk into me like a stone in a pool.

My stomach turned and I drove like I was inviting an officer to stop me and write down every law I was breaking on a ticket. Thinking about getting a ticket was a fortune. I was less than five minutes from the house when I realized I should call 911. An officer was dispatched to the house and would be there a few minutes after me.

I was torn between storming into the house but was also worried that there was someone there expecting me to do just that. I parked two houses up and hoofed it. Remember that sweat in my pitts I was complaining about earlier? That wasn’t the half of what I had soaking into my shirt as I scuttled around the backside of my own home like an intruder. I didn’t hear the girls playing in the pool like they planned to. Like they should be. I did hear a deeper voice than Natalie’s coming from inside the house.

I peered from around the corner of the pool house, careful to watch for my shadow being cast long and revealing my position some 28.5 feet (I designed the pool house) away from our living room. It was still mid morning and the sun was creating shadows left and right. And west, thankfully, right now. I had my shadow behind me was I started tip-toeing toward the house along the panes of glass.

I halted and took an immediate step back when I saw the figure of a huge looking man in the kitchen beyond the living room. He was in a greenish camouflage shirt. There was a black mask pulled over his head. There was a gun trained on my wife. When I slowed and realized he was facing the road, and not toward me, I kept moving. Maybe this guy had some sense and was watching out onto the street to see visitors before they arrived. I was glad I hugged the property line by the Peterson’s on my way in. He probably would have put a round in me if he’d have seen me.

I couldn’t go into the living room from the sliding doors because of the alarm system. If the doors were to open even just enough for me to slide through, the system would chirp. Maybe that wasn’t so bad. I composed myself and spent a moment thinking. The cops should almost be here. But Natalie and the girls are in immediate danger. I hope that we’re never in this situation again.

I snuck around to the front, my steps careful and quiet. Once I was there I could hear the gunman talking. “Come on lady. I’ve seen your husbands car. Look at this house. I know you have some cash or something here. Just tell me where and I won’t hurt you or the kids.”

Natalie had a quiver in her voice, worse than I’d ever heard even despite our many emotional conversations over the last 12 years. “I swear I don’t remember the passcodes, my husband handles all of our finances” she trembled out. I hated that she was right. I’d have preferred he get his money and go. I contemplated revealing myself and the safe’s passcode.

A cop car pulled onto the street, thankfully he’d listened to my request to the dispatcher not to use his siren, but he had lights blaring just as loudly on his hood. The intruder must have still seen them, because just as the cop got out of his car to approach the house, his weapon in his hands, a bullet shot out from the kitchen and brought most of the window over the sink with it. I was crouched down and thankfully not looking up, so I didn’t get any glass in my eyes. Once my ears stopped ringing I looked up and around.

The cop was laid out in the yard, squirming. I felt sorry that I called. He was reaching now for his radio, presumably to call for backup, when another round cried out. I was more prepared this time but still plenty startled. The man in the kitchen cried out now. “Fucking cops? You called the cops?!?”

Three more gunshots. Once I digested what happened I sprinted to the front door and ran into the house. He was near the doorway and wasn’t expecting me. My weight was enough to put him on the ground, and the tumbling toward the ground was enough to let loose another round. I rolled off of him and checked myself. Kicked the gun across the tile and into the study.

He managed to stand up and limped hurriedly into the direction of the back yard. Blood streaked across the living room floor, and eventually the back patio. The sun was cooking it into the pavement, and by the time the red was already staining the concrete permanently, the murderer took a couple of missteps in his drunk-looking state, and collapsed into the pool. He sunk toward the bottom like a stone.

TW: CUSSING, BLØØD

….

It came through

Hello hello?

Now this is the way you feel

The why you cry When you lie awake at night.

Hello hello?

Oh fuck,

  Hello.

Help!

  Help help!

I need help!

A call, The call, She called,

I answered And to my displeasure A scream Relieved In pure Deceived Pain.

Oh shit oh shit,

Oh hell oh wit,

             Are you okay?

What the fuck Don’t fucking play— What the fuck I’m on my way. What the fuck

Blood and blood, And blood and blood,, Oh shit oh crap, A hit? A slap?

Why oh why Oh how oh where Oh who oh what

What happened When happened

Why didn’t you call— Right sooner, Such a late fucking bloomer,

But she snipped the flower

One ring. ‘Let it ring.’

Two rings. ‘I hate him.’

Three rings. ‘Well… maybe a small—“

“Hello?” She says, her voice shakes lightly. Adrenaline? Maybe. It’s been nearly a week, her husband went away for work, leaving her home at seventeen. “Hello?” She’s rocking the baby back and forth while she stands, one hand on the phone, the other on Madeline’s bottom and back.

“I will be arriving at home around—“ he pauses on the other end of the call.

“Around when, Jax?” She spits back. “You left me a week alone to care for 𝘰𝘶𝘳 baby. Never mind the fact she’s only a few months old. What is wrong with you? I pop out a kid and suddenly it doesn’t concern you?”

“A child? I didn’t—“ he stops again, as if to gather himself. “Oh, yes. A child, our… our child. Darling, I’ll be there at dusk, alright? Now, don’t you worry.”

“Where’d you go?” She throws the towel across the light blue kitchen as the baby cries out. “Where’d you go anyways? England? You sound funny.”

“I suppose I may have picked up a few… ah, things,” she hears the phone cackle and cut in and out. A door slams somewhere and he clears his throat. “Tonight, yes dear?”

“I’ll hunt you down if you don’t,” at her words the baby wails louder, “You better hurry, so help me, Jax.”

The line disconnects.

“Daddy’s voice sounded weird, huh? Probably sick. Do you think daddy is sick? Well… I hope so. Serves him right,” the woman lays the baby down and begins changing her diaper. “Tonight isn’t very far away. Maybe momma will get- Madeline! Gosh, would you at least wait until the diaper is on?”

The baby gurgles, kicking the mess further as she squirms. Suddenly the momma laughs, kissing the baby’s forehead. “You little monster!” She giggles down at it, making faces so the baby will laugh too.

.•.•.•.•.•

Heavy footsteps vibrate through the house, the woman’s eyes open. The TV buzzes on it’s mount on the wall, the new series is chattering on about Silvia and The Murder of Two Men. She sighs just as the baby screams.

She stands, stretches and walks to the baby’s pink nursery room. “Look Madeline, I’ve told you, I need res-“ A man stands over the crib, rocking her back and forth. The baby quiets and falls into slumber. “Thank God you’re here, Jax. It took so long to just get her down and I-“ the man turns at the woman’s words.

That isn’t Jax.

She pushes him away from her baby and grabs a box cutter high above her head that she uses to open Pamper diaper boxes. She pops the safety top off with her teeth and wields it like a stubby sword. “How’d you get into my house?” As she stares, more resemblances seem to show themselves. The bright brown eyes. The black hair. The familiar smile. They’re almost the same. The man raises his hands, trying to show her that he’s no threat. Slowly, she lowers the box cutter. “Who are you?”

“Do not be afraid,” says the man with a much stronger accent than he called her phone with. “I am not here to harm you.”

“Who-“

“I’m your husbands twin brother whom he did not know existed. My name is Dax. Your husband… he…”

“He?”

“I am the father. I was the one there that night. You got us mixed up and I,” he rubs the back of his neck and blushes, “I am afraid we were too far gone to control the burning fire within.”

“What about Jax? Where’s he?”

“He has exited the problem, I suppose it took some… convincing. But do not worry, darling. I am here now,” he walks closer and wraps the woman in a hug. Slowly, he unwinds her fingers from the box cutter.

But there’s just one more thing she notices: Dax has the metallic scent of blood on his skin.

I feel my phone buzzing in my back pocket and decide to ignore it for a moment. If it’s important they’ll call again but if not I’ll just call back later. I let the phone stop ringing and continue cleaning the dishes, but the phone rings again. I decide to go ahead and answer it in fear that it’s important. I pull the phone out of my back pocket to see it’s Damian, my newly wed husband. I slide the answer button and before i could even say hey he was already talking.

“Hello Honey.” He used his seductive, charming british accent on me, but not like normal, its more like.. he’s trying to get a treat, if you catch my drift.

“Hey, what’s up you tried calling earlier is everything ok?”

“I’m fine Em, how was your day, Hm? Lovely I hope.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“Not a drop Love, honest. Can’t I just love on my perfect wife?”

“Babe.. what’s going on? What’s with the constant nicknames?”

“I just love you, princess. Now, I’ll be home in 20 if you wanna… go to bed early.” I could hear his smirk over the phone.

“I- are you sure you havent been drinking?”

“I don’t ever want to hurt you my darling, I’d never drink and you know that.”

“Yeah, ok.”

“Love you Em!”

3 minutes passed and I got another call, this time from Damian’s boss.

“Hello,” I say as politely as possible.

“May I speak to Mrs. Emma Baker?”

“This is she. What can I do for you?”

“I was just calling to ask where your husband is, he never showed up to work today and didn’t call in sick either. Everything alright?”

“That’s weird, he left this morning. I just got off the phone with him too. He said he was on his way back from work.” I feel my brows furrow as I try to recall the conversation. “Come to think of it, he was acting strange.”

“Would you like me to make a couple of calls? Check in on him?”

“Oh- y’know what, I don’t thing that’s very necessary. I just remembered he uh.. had a thing to take care of. Thanks for calling have a good rest of your evening.”

“Alright, if things change or if you find him just have him give me a call.”

“Will do, buh bye.” I hang up the phone and lean againts the kitchen counter. I try to recall the conversation and the things most suspicious about it. I decided to write out the nicknames he called me in order of which he said them. He used too many varying names. He usually would pick one and use it the whole day.

I grab a pen from my junk drawer and a napkin off of the table and write them out:

Honey

Em

Love

Princess

My darling

Em

I stare at the napkin looking for something irregular. Then it occures to me. The first letters of each nickname spell something.

H, E, L, P, M, E.

My eyes widen and I drop the pen on the floor. “20 minutes” I mutter under my breath. I look at the clock, it had already been 15. I had to get out QUICK! And make it seem like I know nothing.

I grab my keys, purse, and grocery list on my way out to the car. I quickly start it and pull out of the driveway. I open life 360 on my phone to see if I can track it. I can thankfully, however, the person who’s headed to my house has it. I drive down the road to the corner store where I wait another 20 minutes. I get a notification that ‘Damian left home’ and I keep my distance but follow the phone.

I park about a block away once the phone hasn’t been moving for about 10 minutes before I walk the rest of the way to the location. Once I get there I realize it’s the old abandoned warehouse that the one teacher was murdered by one of her students in a few years back. The guy was never found which makes me terrified to enter the building, but I know Damian’s in there.

I take a few deep breaths before I muster up the courage to go inside. I quietly sneak in through the back where a window was open. Once I got inside it was like a mazed of shelves and police tape. I took off my heals so my shoes couldn’t make sound and I tiptoed through the laberynth.

I started to hear voices. One deep male voice that I didn’t recognize and the other was Damian. I listened in for a minute while I devised a plan. I peaked around the corner to see Damian tied to a rusty, metal chair. His dark brown hair is in his face almost hiding his pericing blue eyes. I can tell he’s nervous but not afraid.

I notice a gun sitting on the chair behind him facing me. I pray that if I wait I could get to it before the other guy. I tip toe a little closer and Damian’s eyes lock on mine. He looks relived and even more scared at the same time. He quickly shifts his gaze back to the captor before the guy notices he ever saw me.

I silently walk over the the chair and grab the gun I pull back the safety and aim for the guys chest. He turns around and smirks slyly. “I was wondering if you were ever gonna show. You’re quiet as a mouse, too bad that gun’s a decoy. Unloaded. Useless.”

He reaches into his coat pocket and I flinch slightly. But not because I’m scared of whatever gun he has. “I can’t beleive it’s you,” I mutter under my breath before continuing to say, “Too bad this gun wasn’t my main plan. You’ve been on the run for a while now, haven’t you. The police were very thrilled when I told them you were here.”

“Very funny but I know you didn’t, you’re bluffing. And you’ll find fear isn’t in my vocabulary.”

“Maybe not, but it’s in your eyes.”

That’s when the large metal doors caved in and the S.W.A.T. team breaks in surrounding us.

“Hands up!” The Colonel yells. “We’ve been trying to catch you for years Locke.”

“But how did you-?”

“Easy, after I deciphered your little code and arrived here, I called the police just before I came in, giving them plenty of time to areive before anything could happen.”

“Well. I’ll give it to you, he was blabbing on and on about how smart you were. I figured it was just because he’s your husband so he’s a bit biased. But wow.” He smirks at me then winks as they cuff him. I roll my eyes and rush over to Damian.

They just untied him and he opens his arms to me and I run right into them. He wraps his strong arms around me in a tight embrace and I can’t stop the tears.

“Hey, hey it’s ok.” He squeezes me tighter and says, “I got you.” I tilt my head up toward his face and he cups mine in his hands. “I love you. My gosh I love you.” He says before kissing me. It started out slow but then became more passionate.

We walked to the car hand in hand and drove home. Well, he drove home. I fell asleep on his shoulder. I woke up just slightly when we got home but didn’t let him know and he came around to my side and carried me in.

And the thing that was the hardest about this whole experince was that the next morning I realized I forgot my heals at the warehouse.

RING RING RI- hello?”

“hi”

“who is this?

“it is ashleigh”

“oh sorry” suspicious a nagging sense of unease in your brain you ignore it

“do you want to go out tonight?”

“where would we go?”

“my place”

“um…” you shouldn’t go dont go DONT GO

“okay, sure, why not” you wave away the screams and ringing alarm bells
its fine its asheleigh you drive to her house

“hey, ash, where did you hide the key to get in?”

“it is under the mat”

“…thanks” it’s not under the mat it never was it’s in the flowerpot every time you should leave you back away

“where are you going?” not-asheliegh is talking, leave now

“can you see me?” you stop dead

“i am always seeing you”

“wha-“ FLASH a grin, blood painted up the teeth, lips stretched all the way to the ears appears from the door hands, if you could even call the mangeled flesh that wrap around your arms and like a disease, the rotting sickness spreads through your skin eating your bones and burning your veins, working its way up to your brain FLASH

RING RING RIN- CALL HAS GONE TO VOICEMAIL “mommy, please help me-“ scream you gurgle and cough your heart on the linoleum tile below you the smile on the face of the terrible thing grows wider “look at how pretty you are now, so so beautiful” FLASH SPARK BAM lights out

“I’m just so angry. I can’t calm down. It’s the children, it’s what he said to the children, there’s something not right about it.” “He’s a wonderful father. He probably just cares too much. He would never do anything to hurt them.” “I don’t want to believe it, but I heard it. I can’t ever go back to a time before he said that.” “You have to tell me what he said.” “It’s too awful.” “Come on.” “He said he wished he never had any kids. That he should have divorced me before I was pregnant with them. He completely regrets being a father.” “Oh God. That’s so dark.” “I’m shattered.” “He couldn’t have really meant it. He loves those children. And they love him!” “It really seemed like he meant it; he had that look in his eyes, you know the fury that he gets. I don’t know what he’s going to do.” “Where is he right now?” “I don’t know. He left to go drive around. I’m scared about what he could do.” “Maybe you should call the police. I’m scared.” “ I’m scared to come out, but what do I tell them?” “Just tell them how angry he got, and how he was talking crazy. They’ll just come and check him out. He’s bound to show up here at some point.”

The police came, but he never returned to the house. He was out in the streets, giving a speech to no one.

“Every day they take another piece of me. Every day there’s a little bit less of what I used to be.” “You have kids and you start a family because you love someone so much that you just want to make more of it. But what really you make more of, is misery. You really just spread it out, two more people, more mouths to feed, more people to disappoint. “More lives that you can ruin, kids, that you can turn out into the universe to have them abused and murdered and degraded. What’s the point? What’s the goddamn point? “It should end with us. This generation should be it. We have run our course. “I’ve seen what can happen to people. I’ve seen how they die. I’ve seen how they suffer. I don’t need to do that anymore. I don’t need to see more. “All these little ways, all these pieces of me, they disappear forever. “All of the naïve things that I’ve hoped for. I’m such an idiot. I should’ve known this was how this is going to turn out. “When you have hope, you just get fucked over worse. It’s better never to hope, never to try. I’m done. I’m done.”

He wandered the streets, night after night. He hadn’t spoken to his family for months. He muttered to himself. He had seen too much; he had learned how the world really worked. He wasn’t going to participate in the lie anymore. He left the city and wandered the countryside The words hammered in his head as he walked, ground down, until he was nothing but dust.

Have you ever heard the screams of a loved one, beggin you to let them in to save them. Have you ever refused, knowing that your loved one is dead. Well, I have. On May 11, 2135, I got a call from my loved one. They called me in a frantic tone, exclaiming that a skin crawler had invaded her work, and she needed me to pick her up. I remember so vividly, how her inflection was just slightly lower. How her breath seemed a little too ragged. The way she spoke was slightly off in such a way, that it brought about an unsettling feeling. In as calm of a voice that I could muster, I explained that the skin crawlers were not in California, they were only in India. Suddenly, I heard a bang on the door. “Honey, im home! Please let me in! Im so scared.” My hand faltered near the handle. I backed away to peek through the window, and sure enough, my wife was there. Until i remembered an unsettling fact. My wifes work was 15 minutes away. This was a skin crawler who had taken my wifes skin and now seeked to take mine for pleasure. I backed away from the door and squinted out the window. My wife was standing looking in the direction if the door. Suddenly, she whipped her head around it face me, with the widest, psychotic smile ive ever seen. She springed towards the window and started bangin on it, harder and harder, until the glass shattered beneath the weight of her fist.

“I’m so sorry, pardon me,” Lorraine whisper-hushed a frenzied apology to scowling, shadow-cast faces while wriggling her way out of the premiere. “You’ll have to excuse me, I need to get through,” her voice, matted thick with exaustion, was scarcely heard over the silence-slicing clang of her phone’s ringetone. It shot up into the air like a noxious gas and lingered, trailing behind her in nasuseating, trumpeting, waves of booming nasal brass as Lorraine squirmed out of the matchbox theatre. The rotting smell of popcorn and sour fountain drinks clogged her nose, the flashing lights slicked her with a sheen of delirious sweat. With a choked little gasp, Lorraine pushed open the exit doors and dialed. A tumor-like tremor was gnawing and nibbling Lorraine’s insides; she could only feel the chilly prickle of the hazy sunset fog creeping upon her shoulders. “What happened? Are you hurt, are you okay?” Lorraine spilled out a slew of concerns. “Lor, What are you talking about? I thought you told me not to call you?” The phone answered, frowning in obvious confusion.

“Matt, you called me. Did you butt-dial me or something?” Lorraine dug her feet into the gravel and exhaled a sigh. The sunset’s glare reflected not a shred of beauty onto the pools of exaust and dingy groundwater. Sunsets in Rookstown were always plain gray.

“Hello? Lor?” The voice squeaked out a tad frantically.

“Oh, i’m sorry, I got lost in thought.” Lorraine’s reply melted warmly onto the gravel, her words cascading in a sonorous chime.

“Yeah, sounds like you, haha.” The voice croaked like a stuttering pelican.

Lorraine dug around in her jacket-pocket for a ciarette like a hungry badger. It was tattered and thin, the white sleeves stained a light brown from a mishap at a first-date long ago. She had not been the clumsy, absentminded one to spill a forty-eight dollar plate of filet mignon on a beautiful young lady’s fresh, arctic-white jacket. Lorraine still adored the jacket, regardless of the spill. It was the most elegant thing she would ever own, so naturally she wore it every day. The color reminded her of his eyes.

“Oh, I thought you would’ve said the opposite,” Lorraine knitted her brows in confusion, tugging ever-so-slightly at the sleeve of her jacket.

“Hm. Guess we’re both out of it today.” The voice rang back, hacking out a gob of phlegm before responding smooth as varnish. (the waxy, toxic kind)

“I guess so. Anyways, I guess I’d better head in if this wasn’t anything,” Lorraine flared up her lighter and took a puff on a cigarette she had managed to scour from the bedraggled depths of her belly-button lint-smelling jacket pocket.

A static-swilled pause filled the air.

“I’m so proud of you!” The voice wavered uneasily, it seemed to be shuffling it’s feet in a nervousness that whorled up through the phone and breezed Lorraine’s face.

“Em, What do you mean?”

“Well, uh, it’s the premiere of your movie? Are you that much of a perfectionist, Lor?” The voice sagged with thick, viscous insecurity,

“Lor? Lorraine?” The voice trembled and shook, shivering and pitter-pattering like a frightened heartbeat.

Lorraine bent down and snubbed out her cigarette on the gravel. She pulled the folds of her jacket to her chest and rocked back and forth slowly, sucking in a slow gasp of air. Cradling her arms close, sprawled and sunken on the gravel, Lorraine’s response tiptoed out in a mouse’s voice: “What’s the secret nickname you had for me when we were kids?”

“Haha! How am I supposed to remember that!” A firecracker of wild, hyena-like shrieks erupted from the chuckling phone screen. Lorraine could feel the sun skulking lower into the sky, the icy dimness of night setting like coarse powder upon her face. The uncomfortable realization stirred within Lorraine that she had never heard him laugh like that. “ Because you and I have them tatooed?” Lorraine spun a lie quickly.

“ I was obviously joking, Lor” The voice snarled, as if it was being spit from a mouth gaurded with harpoon-sharp teeth. An eerie quietness fell upon the line for a brief moment, except for the frantic scuffle-shuffling of feet that darted with such a frantic searching quickness that Lorraine almost believed he was trying to find something. The voice returned after a brief intermission, however, it was not properly armed with an answer to Lorraine’s question.

So, I should probably leave you to get back to your movie,”

“It’s not my movie. It’s Cyndia Crawford’s movie. From our middle school. We joked about it yesterday.” Lorraine spat at the phone, kicking her heels into the gravel.

“How’s old Cyndia doing!” The voice rang out with an unusually cheery edge.

“She died last month.”

“Oh yeah, I remember hearing that. Tragedy.” It slunk back to the slug-like stupor of trembling grimness—yet the subtle accent of snarling viciousness was still lightly detectable.

“ I was kidding.” Lorraine was fed up. She picked up the butt of her cigarette from the dingy gravel and tossed it into the road.

That’s so morbid, Lor!”

Lorraine glanced at the jacket as a car’s headlights whirred by on the road. The sleeve was skunk-striped with an ashy clump of cigarette dust. She exhaled a sigh.

“Who are you?” Lorraine dazedly spoke into the phone.

“Your roomate and best friend Matthias Runk, of course?” The supposed voice of Matthias Runk replied back, in a snippy tone that frothed with snarling viciousness.

Lorraine exploded as the sun slipped into the night’s clamping hands.

“I’m NOT a perfectionist, I didn’t even know you until three years ago, i’m a journalist for christ sakes, WHO ARE YOU! What kind of joke is this!”

The line crackled to a stop, and all Lorraine recieved in response was the soft beep-beep-beep of the call’s severed ending.