A burst of light burns my eyes as it engulfs me in white. I'm shivering.
Blocking it is no use, golden rays flow from in between my fingers. My head is pounding. I'm curling in pain. I finally turn to the side and find grass.
They're gone!
>HELP! SOMEONE PLEAse, help m...
No one answers.
It's hard to stand. There's no one in sight. My head is throbbing and even the breeze feels unbearable against it.
The door is still open. I get inside and reach for the phone.
The line is dead.
As I pass the sofa, I grab the blanket and wrap myself in it while looking for my cell, which I believe I left by the table, the one I was playing with Bella on.
"NO SERVICE"
My knees fall to the ground.
> AAAAAAAAAAAAH! I... I can't... HOW?!
As I yell, sob and wail a thought of comfort comes to mind:
>This too must be a dream.
I pull myself up against the kitchen isle determined to prove myself none of this is real. However, before leaving through the door I take some pain killers and an ice pack since at least the pain is rather convincing.
I step outside. Empty streets devoid of life if it wasn't for some birds chirping on the Hawthorne tree by the front yard. I step onward, off the side walk. Even the houses feel ominous at this point: no movement, no flickering of lights going on and off, not even a single bark from some neighbour's yard.
> I must be sure.
Across the street lives old Mrs Griffin with her furry orange cat and cigarette smoke crankiness. Old Mrs Griffin never leaves the house on account of her worn out hip from such a hard-working life younger generations know anything about. Old Mrs Griffin would surely be there. Her door knocker swings furiously for about a minute, but her raspy voice isn't yelling her typical "COMMIN'!"
I now go for the nob instead, but it's locked, as expected.
> Too bad...
Old Mrs Griffin always has these stupid garden gnomes laying around her garden. I kick one down. It falls face first but remains intact. I kneel to examine the creeper, just one of the many here that usually scare passing by kids. The paint is half worn down and partially smudged except for the dark centred eyes that seem to follow you around.
> Well today is the day! Screw you Mrs Griffin!
Oh, Bella would be so happy for not having to see these everyday - I drop the blanket - and Mike, AH! Mike would be here helping me! I grab the gnome by the feet and throw it against the living room window. And another, and a third. As the gnomes keep flying, some go straight into the wall, others crack the glass and it's frame until one pointy had finally manages to pierce completely and dive head first into the carpet, exposing it's hollow interiors. It's liberating really. Even if the pain in my head hasn't toned down much, I through a few more just for the sake of it and then use the last one with the blue hat to strip the little pieces of remaining glass from the frame so I can open the window.
I get in with no consequences, no one to answer to.
Aside from her not being here everything looks the same. A light brown tint covers the walls and fabrics from years of heavy smoking (wondering if the cat was really orange to begin with), magazines in a pile with some yarn and needles on top. Dusty books, dusty everything, really. I circle around not sure what I'm supposed to look for in the midst of some old photos and paintings. As I pass by the door I feel that my efforts finally start to pay off.
YOU ARE READING
The Effigy Of a Mind - A peculiar reflection on mental health (sci fi)
Mystery / Thriller(Previous Title: Amiss) ▶️👋ON GOING STORY. My goal is to post at least a chapter a week but since I just moved houses there could be some delays. Also, full disclaimer, I'm an ADHD writer so at times its all or nothing. Two chapters on a day or not...
