October 25th, 2010
|07:06 am - Haunting in an age of Recession, Part 2|
And we go on with the story, la la!
Yesterday we met Hal (the runner) and Melissa (his wife the reporter), and a strange block of empty houses. Today -- we continue. :-)
We ended thusly: He takes another couple of steps. The sound of feet on pavement dissolves into silence – and then they come back, and they're drumbeats to a tune pouring out of the fog.
Sounds like... Glenn Miller.
Hal slows. The music plays on, a single instrument, a lilting woodwind in the mist.
Thing is, it's not coming from the Robertsons' house. It's coming from the old two-story one.
Mist becomes fog. He can feel it creeping around his aching calves, stealing into his lungs. It's foul, this mist, with a metallic aftertaste he's never noticed before.
He can't see any of the houses. All he can see is fog, and tree limbs twisting toward him like they'd crush him if they could.
He runs. Sprints, in fact, and doesn't stop 'til he gets home.
Melissa's in the kitchen with Hortense. She's already set out his water, and now she's standing over the toaster, staring dreamily at its contents and the glowing coils he can see from here. When he walks in, though, she smiles at him. "Hal, baby. Good run?"
Fog, weird music, oppressive woods, and still a bad taste in his mouth... "It was all right."
"Good," she says, as if she's not listening.
He drinks down half the glass of water in one gulp. His hand is shaking, he realizes. Legs are shaking. He ran that last bit pretty damn fast.
Carefully he sets down the glass. "Hey, Liss? Can you check something for me if you have time at the paper? I was wondering about that block on Ash, you know, where the Robertson murder was. If anything else weird has ever happened there."
"Okay," she says, as if she's not listening. Then, a sideways smile: "Okay, yes. Anything special? You want to move or something?"
"No! No. Just... weird stuff. About that historical renovation house, or anything."
"Sure. I can do that," she says, and then starts to sing under her breath. Her voice is lilting and true, and she often sings in the morning, but... "'In the Mood, be mine forever, In the groove, and leave me never--'"
Her toast pops up, a drumbeat, a gunshot. Hal tastes blood and fog.
Happy Monday to all!
You are so very right. ;-)
And I am so very grateful for your reading! Thanks, and a good Monday!
|Date:||October 25th, 2010 12:08 pm (UTC)|| |
Thank you, L, thank you for the Meep. :-) Hugs and a good day to you!
|Date:||October 25th, 2010 12:50 pm (UTC)|| |
Okay, now I'm really intrigued. Blood and fog and Glen Miller [shivers].
"In the Mood" is a surprisingly creepy song. ;-)
Hugs and thanks, and a good Monday to you!
Hal really SHOULD watch out. [nods]
Thank you thank you for reading, and a good day to you!
Good to see Hal had the sense to run away from the fog :)
THIS time he managed to run away. ;-)
Thank you thank you for reading! Happy Monday!
Heeeee. Alas, it's not that easy...
Thank you, A, thank you twice. Hugs too!
And yay! :-)
What perfect exclamations, Gwynne. :-)
Thank you thank you! Happy Monday, too. [hugs]
Shivers up my spine and glad today is not as dark and stormy as yesterday...I could use a tad more sun now, though, after this.
Thank you, ALH, thank you for shivers. I shall try to keep them coming. ;-)
Hugs and a good evening!
Thank you, Stevie, for reading and noting the spooky. :-) Thank you!