A Kind of Homecoming - Chapter 3

3

                Behind closed eyes Abbey could sense a flickering light and a quick procession of thoughts cascaded over her.  “I should get to bed, geeze I didn’t realize I fell asleep with the TV still on, I wonder what time it is?”  The drug of sleep was set deep and the act of doing anything was a struggle, especially considering the late hour and the fact the sofa provided a cocoon like nest that was both comfortable and comforting.  If only the TV was off she thought, there would be no reason to push out of the blissful slumber.  But the flickering light was nagging and relentless and soon it was an overpowering and a controlling thought that had to be dealt with.  The muscles in her face reacted and a slit of light came into view.  As gradual as warming water the slit increased letting in more light, and the haze of her surroundings expanded and came into focus.  Something was different, something about the quality of the light didn’t feel right, and the usual brightness from the static after the final hour of the broadcast day was usually softer.  It was also inconsistent with the video tape of the fire log playing in its eternal loop, and yet the artificial fire that had soothed her into slumber only hours ago still danced and cascaded light over the floor and walls of the room.  FIRE! The suddenness of the recognition bolted Abbey upright and out of the passive comfort of restfulness that she so desired and needed.  That recognition evaporated like summer heat off a stretch of highway, replaced by wonder and fear. 

The large 52” display that Francis had purchased was gone, along with the entertainment center that stood sentinel on either side.  Her eyes widened unnaturally to the scene that lay before her.  In place of the flat utilitarian shelves that were lined with DVD’s and CD’s was an ornately carved Oak bookcase.  It ran the length of the wall, from floor to ceiling filled with hundreds of books, ledgers and pencil sketches in small wooden frames.  In the center was a massive brick and stone fireplace with a timber mantle and a hearth that extended 2 feet into the room with a fire burning softly within.  Abbey stood with mouth ajar, staring into the fire letting her eyes retrace the unnatural wall and its holdings.  She forced herself to look around the living room and beyond, catching all the changes, some subtle, some not.  Hardwood floors beneath her feet, plaster walls with smaller hand tempered glass windows, no lights in the ceiling, no switches, no thermostat, no microwave, or appliances, gone, it was all gone.  Outside the night seemed to have swallowed all light including the street lamp that had stood as a beacon and usually filled the room as a constant reminder of its presence.  A loud clang and a spray of water shot across the floor making the fire spit as drops from the fallen vase hit the flames.  A small round table lay on its side at Abbey’s feet.   “What the hell - where did that come from?”  Abbey turned and found that the sofa she had been asleep on moments ago was now gone, replaced with a hard looking wingback chair.  Things began to change faster but always away from sight, to the left, right and behind her.  Abbey began spinning in circles trying to keep up; feeling dizzy she stretched out her hand to hold herself upright. 

A loud bang and a rumble carried a vibration along the floor to her from somewhere down the bedroom hall.  From deep in the shadow a pair of red eyes was staring back at her.  Abbey could hear herself screaming but it sounded far away, like it was coming from down the hall with the thing. 

She lifted a candle from the mantle and held it with an outstretched arm, willing the light to go farther into the black.  A shuffling sound started and they eyes moved, whatever it was, was coming to her.  Abbey could feel her pulse quicken and her breathing became shallow but couldn’t move, fear had gripped her as solid as stone where she stood.  As it moved closer, faint images began to take shape as it touched the light from the candle.  Abbeys arm began to shake, the light bouncing across the wall, trying to pull back.

“Who’s there? What do you want, why is this happening?”  Abbey began to cry and had to reach out with her other hand to keep the candle steady.  The shuffling stopped, the shape of the person, thing, was just outside of sight.  “Please, please, don’t hurt me, I don’t want to die!”  Nothing happened for what seemed like an eternity, her tears splash

ed on the floor.

A thick watery voice called out, “Aaaabbeeeey!”

Abbey shrieked and dropped the candle.

“Aaabbeey, look behind you!

Shaking her head, her eyes cast down to the floor, paralyzed with fear, tears were now streaming down her cheeks, and she could feel a hot breath on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and could only wait for something to happen.  The breath grew in strength becoming a constant breeze, then a strong wind buffeting and pushing into Abbey making her feel like she would fall over any second then nothing.

She stood in darkness, afraid to look, until a light music could be heard.  The music slowly got louder and louder.  Abbey opened her eyes and found herself looking up at the familiar ceiling of her bedroom.  The clock radio playing was on and playing a piece by Chopin.