Status: Actuve (=
Angels and Rain
Seven.
I froze in the doorway with my heart midbeat. My keys weren’t in my bag. Oh, shit, shit. I had another look. They were definitely there yesterday, I know they were, I put them in. Nope, they’d gone. Oh, God. I swore and dropped onto my knees. The bare gravel grazed and snagged at my tights, but I still looked under my doormat for the spare key. I knew I’d given it to Feadie a few months ago when I looked myself out only a couple of weeks after I moved in and been standing in the cold for hours until I remembered where I’d put it, although I still looked in the feeble hope that his corpse had popped up and put it back, like the considerate little guy he was. No, he hadn’t. I straightened up and drew a
shaky breath, closing my eyes and smoothing down my thin T-Shirt. Logical steps, Helaynia, logical
steps. Oh crap, I’m passed logic now. AARRRRRGHHHHH!!! I grabbed things in random handfuls
from my Jack Skellington handbag and threw them over my shoulder in the frantic hope that they may
be in there hidden at the bottom somewhere, under my spider web earrings. I had Feadie’s key
though… Maybe I could…
No. He’s dead. Isn’t that bad enough? Besides, what would that solve in the long term? I sat down on
the doormat and tried to think about where I’d last had them. Where had I last been?
I rang Kiaity.
“Kiaity?”
“Ah, bonsoir ma petit pain! You’re ringing back early! Normally you wait a good few years then just
appear at someone’s front door.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
“S’okay. So what’s wrong?”
“How’d you mean?”
“You never ring unless something’s the matter. So what’s up? Has your house caught fire?”
“Kia, be serious. Have I left my keys over there?”
“Erm, hang on…” *Cue random rustlings at the other end of the phone* “nein.” There was a slight tone
of disappointment in her voice that I couldn’t help but notice and feel guilty about. But still, speak
English, damn you!
“Are you sure?”
“Oui.”
“Definitely?”
“Oui oui. Why? Have you lost them?”
“No, Kia, I’m just asking you because I know there here in my bag and I’m trying to keep you busy for a
few minutes while by biker friend here robs your house.”
“Hel, be serious”
I want to kill you, Kiaity Reynolds.
“Okay, you haven’t seen them. Goodbye, retard.”
I bleeped my phone off.
I hate people.
But I didn’t leave them in hell, I know that for sure. I hadn’t been anywhere else.
Oh God.
Yes I had.
My heart was in my mouth as I ran up that same hill. It wasn’t raining this time, but the grass was
churned to bits underfoot so I kept slipping over. I bet when I get to the top they aren’t there, that would
be just my luck.
I fell up the rest of the way, landing on my knees with a rather squelchy noise. The knees of my tights
were thoroughly coated with mud and I hadn’t thought to put on a jumper so my arms were coming out
in goosebumps in their short sleeves. I got up and shivered involuntarily, hugging myself for warmth.
Cloud cover made the sky impossible. I gave another shudder and tried to wipe some of the mud that
was wrapped around my hands off on my top. It didn’t work. Some had already dried on in that
annoying way that mud does and there was rather a lot under my torn fingernails.
I wish I had a coat.
I had a quick scout round the hill. It wasn’t huge, just bloody steep with a chalky footpath that acted as
a slide when it got wet. Just as I bloody well thought. There’s nothing here save for a few empty lager
cans and a rather dodgy looking brown bag, some sort of powder visible through one of the many
tears in it. There was also the bench I’d sat on last night. I looked at it, with the peeling black paint.
I got down on my hands and knees and crawled underneath it. The stench under here was
unbelievable. I almost gagged and started to breathe through my mouth. I couldn’t see anything apart
from fag ends and the same powder scattered around the thick muddy soup. I tried to come out, but in
doing so accidently put my hand in the wreckage of a broken beer bottle. I gave a small squeal and
pulled it up quickly. I shot out from under the bench and looked at my injured palm. A large, jagged
piece of brown glass was sticking out of it at a very odd angle. I knew better than to remove it as palms
bled a lot, so I just wrapped it in my Cookie Monster T-Shirt and watched the dark sticky stain spread
slowly up the black material. I couldn’t stay out here now I was bleeding, a Bloodlusted vampire could
scent anything from the other side of town and be up here within the minute.
I sat down heavily on the bench and stared out over the town. The lights were just coming on and the
whole place was spread below me like a giant orange web. If I wasn’t so worried I’d have been able to
appreciate its beauty. I gave a long sigh and fell against the back the bench. I knew I should really get
back, it wasn’t safe to be around after nightfall here, especially if I was bleeding, but I don’t know
where the hell I can go. I was locked out of my house, I couldn’t go back to Kia’s and as far as I knew
my purse was in my house so my chances of staying at a hotel were stumped. Not that I’d want to stay
in one here, Monroeville is hardly a huge tourist destination and all he hotels are crap and horrifically
expensive.
The scent of my blood…
It started to rain. I looked up and got a raindrop the size of a rugby ball in my eye. The nighttime sky
was a mass of black clouds, sitting so low in the sky I was surprised that even I, at the grand height of
five-foot-five, didn’t bang my head on them when I got up. My face has been scored by the cold. Coat
was in house, keys were God knows where. Oh God, where art my keys? If you tell me, I will build
several churches in your honour. Ta very much. Regards to Jesus.
He didn’t answer me.
Fine then, be like that!
Ah well. His loss.
Note to self-Never trust God with anything.
I got up to leave before I started to resemble a drowned rat. Being me, I had left my crucifix in my
bedroom and I didn’t have a scarf, or indeed anything to out round my neck. If I got bitten, I got bitten,
then.
No mistletoe in Monroeville.
I kicked a stone in a bad tempered manner. It clattered off a larger rock embedded in the spongy
ground and bounced off down the hill. I stared after it wistfully, wishing I could be that nimble, that
silent (apart from when I clatter off bigger rocks) and, to be honest, that extraordinarily cool shape.
That was when the back of my neck went into spasm.
Before I could react, a hand clasped itself round my mouth and another at my waist. Someone
clapped a silken handkerchief that smelt of something sickly sweet over my mouth. All I could find
myself thinking, not for the first time in my life, was don’tbreathedon’tbreathedon’tbreathe as a cold
voice spoke in my ear, making my hackles rise. “Well, well well. Back again are we, Helaynia?”
shaky breath, closing my eyes and smoothing down my thin T-Shirt. Logical steps, Helaynia, logical
steps. Oh crap, I’m passed logic now. AARRRRRGHHHHH!!! I grabbed things in random handfuls
from my Jack Skellington handbag and threw them over my shoulder in the frantic hope that they may
be in there hidden at the bottom somewhere, under my spider web earrings. I had Feadie’s key
though… Maybe I could…
No. He’s dead. Isn’t that bad enough? Besides, what would that solve in the long term? I sat down on
the doormat and tried to think about where I’d last had them. Where had I last been?
I rang Kiaity.
“Kiaity?”
“Ah, bonsoir ma petit pain! You’re ringing back early! Normally you wait a good few years then just
appear at someone’s front door.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
“S’okay. So what’s wrong?”
“How’d you mean?”
“You never ring unless something’s the matter. So what’s up? Has your house caught fire?”
“Kia, be serious. Have I left my keys over there?”
“Erm, hang on…” *Cue random rustlings at the other end of the phone* “nein.” There was a slight tone
of disappointment in her voice that I couldn’t help but notice and feel guilty about. But still, speak
English, damn you!
“Are you sure?”
“Oui.”
“Definitely?”
“Oui oui. Why? Have you lost them?”
“No, Kia, I’m just asking you because I know there here in my bag and I’m trying to keep you busy for a
few minutes while by biker friend here robs your house.”
“Hel, be serious”
I want to kill you, Kiaity Reynolds.
“Okay, you haven’t seen them. Goodbye, retard.”
I bleeped my phone off.
I hate people.
But I didn’t leave them in hell, I know that for sure. I hadn’t been anywhere else.
Oh God.
Yes I had.
My heart was in my mouth as I ran up that same hill. It wasn’t raining this time, but the grass was
churned to bits underfoot so I kept slipping over. I bet when I get to the top they aren’t there, that would
be just my luck.
I fell up the rest of the way, landing on my knees with a rather squelchy noise. The knees of my tights
were thoroughly coated with mud and I hadn’t thought to put on a jumper so my arms were coming out
in goosebumps in their short sleeves. I got up and shivered involuntarily, hugging myself for warmth.
Cloud cover made the sky impossible. I gave another shudder and tried to wipe some of the mud that
was wrapped around my hands off on my top. It didn’t work. Some had already dried on in that
annoying way that mud does and there was rather a lot under my torn fingernails.
I wish I had a coat.
I had a quick scout round the hill. It wasn’t huge, just bloody steep with a chalky footpath that acted as
a slide when it got wet. Just as I bloody well thought. There’s nothing here save for a few empty lager
cans and a rather dodgy looking brown bag, some sort of powder visible through one of the many
tears in it. There was also the bench I’d sat on last night. I looked at it, with the peeling black paint.
I got down on my hands and knees and crawled underneath it. The stench under here was
unbelievable. I almost gagged and started to breathe through my mouth. I couldn’t see anything apart
from fag ends and the same powder scattered around the thick muddy soup. I tried to come out, but in
doing so accidently put my hand in the wreckage of a broken beer bottle. I gave a small squeal and
pulled it up quickly. I shot out from under the bench and looked at my injured palm. A large, jagged
piece of brown glass was sticking out of it at a very odd angle. I knew better than to remove it as palms
bled a lot, so I just wrapped it in my Cookie Monster T-Shirt and watched the dark sticky stain spread
slowly up the black material. I couldn’t stay out here now I was bleeding, a Bloodlusted vampire could
scent anything from the other side of town and be up here within the minute.
I sat down heavily on the bench and stared out over the town. The lights were just coming on and the
whole place was spread below me like a giant orange web. If I wasn’t so worried I’d have been able to
appreciate its beauty. I gave a long sigh and fell against the back the bench. I knew I should really get
back, it wasn’t safe to be around after nightfall here, especially if I was bleeding, but I don’t know
where the hell I can go. I was locked out of my house, I couldn’t go back to Kia’s and as far as I knew
my purse was in my house so my chances of staying at a hotel were stumped. Not that I’d want to stay
in one here, Monroeville is hardly a huge tourist destination and all he hotels are crap and horrifically
expensive.
The scent of my blood…
It started to rain. I looked up and got a raindrop the size of a rugby ball in my eye. The nighttime sky
was a mass of black clouds, sitting so low in the sky I was surprised that even I, at the grand height of
five-foot-five, didn’t bang my head on them when I got up. My face has been scored by the cold. Coat
was in house, keys were God knows where. Oh God, where art my keys? If you tell me, I will build
several churches in your honour. Ta very much. Regards to Jesus.
He didn’t answer me.
Fine then, be like that!
Ah well. His loss.
Note to self-Never trust God with anything.
I got up to leave before I started to resemble a drowned rat. Being me, I had left my crucifix in my
bedroom and I didn’t have a scarf, or indeed anything to out round my neck. If I got bitten, I got bitten,
then.
No mistletoe in Monroeville.
I kicked a stone in a bad tempered manner. It clattered off a larger rock embedded in the spongy
ground and bounced off down the hill. I stared after it wistfully, wishing I could be that nimble, that
silent (apart from when I clatter off bigger rocks) and, to be honest, that extraordinarily cool shape.
That was when the back of my neck went into spasm.
Before I could react, a hand clasped itself round my mouth and another at my waist. Someone
clapped a silken handkerchief that smelt of something sickly sweet over my mouth. All I could find
myself thinking, not for the first time in my life, was don’tbreathedon’tbreathedon’tbreathe as a cold
voice spoke in my ear, making my hackles rise. “Well, well well. Back again are we, Helaynia?”