Status: two students with procrastinating issues, you guess the status.
With a Little Help from My Friends
Stalker by accident.
Spencer’s eyes were bloodshot. He stared at the clock on his night stand. The luminous red numbers read 4:43 AM. As soon as he got to his new abode he felt sick. Maybe it was wrong of him to throw Ryan away like that. ‘Maybe I do need him’, Spencer thought as he rolled off the bed. For hours he was laying in his king sized bed just thinking. Music was lightly playing in the background. There is some study out there that people sleep better with white noise. It didn’t help Spencer at all. He felt more anxious and nauseous. Ryan hasn’t called him yet. As a matter of fact, no one has called him yet. It has been a five days since he left them and no goddamn call. But he doesn’t care. He expected this to happen.
It still made him feel a little lonely.
He pulls a clean white t-shirt over his head and stumbles out the front door. He took one last look at the inside of the cabin before taking a seat on the rocking chair on the porch. The person he is renting it from left the place completely furnished. It looked cozy, like it belonged in the pages of Better Homes and Gardens. Blue gingham chairs were nestled around a blue plaid couch. A large oak coffee table was centered in the middle of the open living room. It surprised, but also pleased, Spencer that there weren’t animal heads or skins in the cabins. Spencer grabs a bottle of water and shuts the door behind him.
Trees blocked his view of everything. The cabin was in the middle of a forest. It was a fifteen minute drive just to reach the asphalt that leads to a small town. Then it is a forty-five drive to Seattle from the small town.
The sight from Spencer’s front porch was amazing. He has only ever lived in neighborhoods nestled in cities. Crappy houses and tall buildings were visible from his parent’s house. And now he was granted with the view of nature.
Spencer breaks the seal on the water bottle and chugs half of the water. His weary eyes stare at the barely lit forest. The ground was speckled with wet leaves. Laughter entered his ears before he noticed any disturbance in his peaceful woods. A long limbed girl dances around a large tree. Her snowy white hair sways with each delicate movement. A dark feather was tied to a braid in her long wavy mane. Spencer was caught off guard by the girl’s attire. She wore a sheer, thigh lengthen, and trimmed in gold tunic. Underneath the tunic were gold spandex boxers and gold bra. There weren’t any shoes on her feet.
‘Do weird hippies live up here?’ Spencer sinks lower in his rocking chair hoping the girl didn’t see him. He puts the water bottle in front of his face trying to hide himself. He would have dashed into the cabin with his tail in between his legs, but the mystical girl put a spell on him. The girl continues to dance by herself. She spins and pirouettes. Her face tilts towards the sky. Spencer feels guilty as he stares at this seemingly innocent woman, no girl. The girl looked around twenty, young. Her head lowers. For a second Spencer thinks she sees him but the feeling passes as she turns around and dances away. Did her icy blue eyes see him? A weird sickness washes over him. He jumps off his rocking chairs. His lean body doubles over the oak railing. He coughs and spurt up water and airline peanuts. The acid from his stomach burns his throat.
As he walks back into the cabin he hears the girl laughing again. His head turns to where he hears her but she was long gone. The front door doesn’t close all the way. It doesn’t matter, who is going to bother him in the woods besides that strange girl he saw? Besides her, he hasn’t seen anyone since he drove up here.
The couch bounces as the boy plunges on it in a heap. There wasn’t much to do in his cabin. No cable. No internet. The previous owner left a closet filled with books. There was an old television set and DVD/VCR player that Spencer’s mom sent him. But he didn’t pack many DVDs. Now he regretted that decision.
Birds chirp from outside as the day grew on. A noise competed with the birds, Spencer’s bowels. He clamps both of his hands over his stomach. It continues to growl. He shifts his weight on the couch to look up at the clock above the TV. The big hand rested in between the 5 and the 6. The same hand was pointing at the 6. ‘Five fucking thirty in the morning. There has to be some place open. At least some place will be open by the time I get into town. Who else would be up this early? Lumberjacks live up here, right?’ He picks a sweater off the floor and shimmies into a pair of jeans. He slips into some shoes, grabs his car keys, and leaves the cabin.
The sun was still hiding when Spencer finally found the asphalt leading to civilization. A small diner’s neon lights were ablaze in the otherwise quiet town. The Jeep Spencer was in rattles to a stop. He jumps out of the metal contraption. There weren’t many people in the restaurant. It reminded him of a Denny’s, only more homely. An overweight couple was talking to each other through a square cut out in the wall. It was a waitress and a cook. The waitress’s body shook with laughter. The cook waved his spatula around with a large grin on his face. Three elderly men were sitting at a table by themselves with cups of coffee in front of them. Two beefy men in plaid were at the counter sipping coffee. A white haired beauty walks out from behind the swinging doors carrying a carafe.
“Holy shit.” Spencer quickly dives to the ground, ducking behind a parked car. It was the same girl from the woods. Except now she was wearing real clothes: a white skirt, white button up shirt, black sneakers, and a name tag. Blood rushes to his face. He felt embarrassed to be running into her. As far as he could tell there wasn’t any other place open within walking distance. And his stomach was deafening. Maybe he could do without food. Yeah, just hole himself in his cabin until he has to go to therapy tonight. Slowly, he peeks from the behind the car to see if anyone noticed him. Those icy blue eyes were staring off into space, just above Spencer’s head. A smile appears on the strange girl’s face and she turns away from sight. He drops back down to the ground. His heart races and slams against his ribcage. Instead of risking anything he jumps back into his Jeep and drives away from the quaint town. The farther he gets away from this ethereal being the better. The Jeep flies down the highway. He drives to the outskirts of Seattle. There has to be something open; it is a fucking big city after all.
--
It was midday, around eleven. Spencer was wasting time in Seattle until his appointment. He stopped by the post office to see if he had mail. There was a letter from his mom and a box from Jon’s mom. The letter was filled with sentimental crap. ‘We miss you. You should have stopped by home before leaving us for your cabin. Your father says hello. Call, please,’ et cetera et cetera. At least Jon’s mom sent something with substance: a variety of cookies and banana nut bread. There was a small note that said, ‘thank you for being my son’s friend.’ The note made Spencer feels a little like shit for the way he treated Jon that last day of touring. He was rude to him. Then again, he was rude to everyone. By the end of the tour he just hated everyone he saw. But today he has found someone he wasn’t repulsed by. Someone that didn’t know all his dirty secrets. Some mystical being.
He drives to the psychologist’s office and sits on the curb eating a chunky chocolate chip cookie. Crumbs jump off his lap as he stands up. His fingers gently brush the crumbs off his shirt and pants. One of his hands reaches for the door. Coming out of an office is a woman in a business suit, who he suspects to be the therapist, and the blonde from the woods and diner. Why the hell does she keep popping up out of nowhere?
The mere sight of her causes him to panic. Spencer jumps behind a row of bushes. Dirt rubs against his clothes and face. He accidentally gets a handful of dirt smashed against his mouth and teeth. It is gritty and makes him want to gag. He tucks in his feet, trying to hide himself as best as he could.
A bell chimes. “Session went well, Abernathy,” said a woman with an older sounding voice.
“Come on, Michelle. I know you are my therapist, but I hate my first name. I thought we established it when we started that you would call me by my middle name, like everyone else.” The second voice was raspy, yet girly. Spencer already knew the first speaker was his therapist, Dr. Michelle Monahan. He had to speak with her on the phone on more than one occasion. The second voice had to be the sprite, Abernathy.
The therapist cocks her head to the side. “I thought we’ve talked about this. I felt like I haven’t earned your respect to call you by that name. You still won’t talk about why you are here. When you do, I can stop calling your Abernathy.”
Abernathy plays with the feather in her hair. “Okay, Michelle, whatever you say.” The therapist reminds the girl of their next appointment and heads back into the office. Abernathy glances sideways at the body lying in the dirt. She rolls her eyes and steps around the bush. Spencer had his eyes shut tight. There were noises on the other side of the bush that frightened him. ‘Is she gone yet?’ The sound of a lighter kills his faint wish. “Hey pervert, get out from behind the bushes will ya?” No answer. He continues to silently pray to himself. “You must have dirt all over you.”
“Stop talking to the bushes. There is no one here,” Spencer mutters. Dirt flicks into his mouth. He coughs it out. He turns his head sideways. Through the gapping bottom from the ground to the leaves of the bush he sees her back.
The same laugh he heard this morning rings in his ears again. “You are silly, Mister Stalker.” She lies down on the sidewalk and stares at him. “Who, may I ask, are you? And why the hell are you stalking me? How long have you been stalking me?” She pushes her lips to the side and exhales smoke into the air. “Did I do something wrong?”
“I am not stalking you. We just happen to be at the same place at the same time. I go to this therapist.”
“Michelle is your psycho doctor, too?” He nods. She squints at him. “Have we met before?”
“No, never. We don’t know each other. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to keep running into you,or whatever. Just forget about me.”
“But I don’t want to. You interest me, sir Creeper,” Abernathy inhales a lungful of smoke. She extends a hand towards Spencer. “Hello stalker; my name is Tiger Lily.” He shakes her fingers and retracts his dirty hand from her. A giggle escapes her.
Words roll around his tongue but leave him tongue tied. “I--I'm--My name is--”
“It’s cool. You can tell me your name some other day. After all, you know where I live, work, and go to for therapy,” she interrupts him. “I have to go anyway. See you later, Peeping Tom.”
It still made him feel a little lonely.
He pulls a clean white t-shirt over his head and stumbles out the front door. He took one last look at the inside of the cabin before taking a seat on the rocking chair on the porch. The person he is renting it from left the place completely furnished. It looked cozy, like it belonged in the pages of Better Homes and Gardens. Blue gingham chairs were nestled around a blue plaid couch. A large oak coffee table was centered in the middle of the open living room. It surprised, but also pleased, Spencer that there weren’t animal heads or skins in the cabins. Spencer grabs a bottle of water and shuts the door behind him.
Trees blocked his view of everything. The cabin was in the middle of a forest. It was a fifteen minute drive just to reach the asphalt that leads to a small town. Then it is a forty-five drive to Seattle from the small town.
The sight from Spencer’s front porch was amazing. He has only ever lived in neighborhoods nestled in cities. Crappy houses and tall buildings were visible from his parent’s house. And now he was granted with the view of nature.
Spencer breaks the seal on the water bottle and chugs half of the water. His weary eyes stare at the barely lit forest. The ground was speckled with wet leaves. Laughter entered his ears before he noticed any disturbance in his peaceful woods. A long limbed girl dances around a large tree. Her snowy white hair sways with each delicate movement. A dark feather was tied to a braid in her long wavy mane. Spencer was caught off guard by the girl’s attire. She wore a sheer, thigh lengthen, and trimmed in gold tunic. Underneath the tunic were gold spandex boxers and gold bra. There weren’t any shoes on her feet.
‘Do weird hippies live up here?’ Spencer sinks lower in his rocking chair hoping the girl didn’t see him. He puts the water bottle in front of his face trying to hide himself. He would have dashed into the cabin with his tail in between his legs, but the mystical girl put a spell on him. The girl continues to dance by herself. She spins and pirouettes. Her face tilts towards the sky. Spencer feels guilty as he stares at this seemingly innocent woman, no girl. The girl looked around twenty, young. Her head lowers. For a second Spencer thinks she sees him but the feeling passes as she turns around and dances away. Did her icy blue eyes see him? A weird sickness washes over him. He jumps off his rocking chairs. His lean body doubles over the oak railing. He coughs and spurt up water and airline peanuts. The acid from his stomach burns his throat.
As he walks back into the cabin he hears the girl laughing again. His head turns to where he hears her but she was long gone. The front door doesn’t close all the way. It doesn’t matter, who is going to bother him in the woods besides that strange girl he saw? Besides her, he hasn’t seen anyone since he drove up here.
The couch bounces as the boy plunges on it in a heap. There wasn’t much to do in his cabin. No cable. No internet. The previous owner left a closet filled with books. There was an old television set and DVD/VCR player that Spencer’s mom sent him. But he didn’t pack many DVDs. Now he regretted that decision.
Birds chirp from outside as the day grew on. A noise competed with the birds, Spencer’s bowels. He clamps both of his hands over his stomach. It continues to growl. He shifts his weight on the couch to look up at the clock above the TV. The big hand rested in between the 5 and the 6. The same hand was pointing at the 6. ‘Five fucking thirty in the morning. There has to be some place open. At least some place will be open by the time I get into town. Who else would be up this early? Lumberjacks live up here, right?’ He picks a sweater off the floor and shimmies into a pair of jeans. He slips into some shoes, grabs his car keys, and leaves the cabin.
The sun was still hiding when Spencer finally found the asphalt leading to civilization. A small diner’s neon lights were ablaze in the otherwise quiet town. The Jeep Spencer was in rattles to a stop. He jumps out of the metal contraption. There weren’t many people in the restaurant. It reminded him of a Denny’s, only more homely. An overweight couple was talking to each other through a square cut out in the wall. It was a waitress and a cook. The waitress’s body shook with laughter. The cook waved his spatula around with a large grin on his face. Three elderly men were sitting at a table by themselves with cups of coffee in front of them. Two beefy men in plaid were at the counter sipping coffee. A white haired beauty walks out from behind the swinging doors carrying a carafe.
“Holy shit.” Spencer quickly dives to the ground, ducking behind a parked car. It was the same girl from the woods. Except now she was wearing real clothes: a white skirt, white button up shirt, black sneakers, and a name tag. Blood rushes to his face. He felt embarrassed to be running into her. As far as he could tell there wasn’t any other place open within walking distance. And his stomach was deafening. Maybe he could do without food. Yeah, just hole himself in his cabin until he has to go to therapy tonight. Slowly, he peeks from the behind the car to see if anyone noticed him. Those icy blue eyes were staring off into space, just above Spencer’s head. A smile appears on the strange girl’s face and she turns away from sight. He drops back down to the ground. His heart races and slams against his ribcage. Instead of risking anything he jumps back into his Jeep and drives away from the quaint town. The farther he gets away from this ethereal being the better. The Jeep flies down the highway. He drives to the outskirts of Seattle. There has to be something open; it is a fucking big city after all.
--
It was midday, around eleven. Spencer was wasting time in Seattle until his appointment. He stopped by the post office to see if he had mail. There was a letter from his mom and a box from Jon’s mom. The letter was filled with sentimental crap. ‘We miss you. You should have stopped by home before leaving us for your cabin. Your father says hello. Call, please,’ et cetera et cetera. At least Jon’s mom sent something with substance: a variety of cookies and banana nut bread. There was a small note that said, ‘thank you for being my son’s friend.’ The note made Spencer feels a little like shit for the way he treated Jon that last day of touring. He was rude to him. Then again, he was rude to everyone. By the end of the tour he just hated everyone he saw. But today he has found someone he wasn’t repulsed by. Someone that didn’t know all his dirty secrets. Some mystical being.
He drives to the psychologist’s office and sits on the curb eating a chunky chocolate chip cookie. Crumbs jump off his lap as he stands up. His fingers gently brush the crumbs off his shirt and pants. One of his hands reaches for the door. Coming out of an office is a woman in a business suit, who he suspects to be the therapist, and the blonde from the woods and diner. Why the hell does she keep popping up out of nowhere?
The mere sight of her causes him to panic. Spencer jumps behind a row of bushes. Dirt rubs against his clothes and face. He accidentally gets a handful of dirt smashed against his mouth and teeth. It is gritty and makes him want to gag. He tucks in his feet, trying to hide himself as best as he could.
A bell chimes. “Session went well, Abernathy,” said a woman with an older sounding voice.
“Come on, Michelle. I know you are my therapist, but I hate my first name. I thought we established it when we started that you would call me by my middle name, like everyone else.” The second voice was raspy, yet girly. Spencer already knew the first speaker was his therapist, Dr. Michelle Monahan. He had to speak with her on the phone on more than one occasion. The second voice had to be the sprite, Abernathy.
The therapist cocks her head to the side. “I thought we’ve talked about this. I felt like I haven’t earned your respect to call you by that name. You still won’t talk about why you are here. When you do, I can stop calling your Abernathy.”
Abernathy plays with the feather in her hair. “Okay, Michelle, whatever you say.” The therapist reminds the girl of their next appointment and heads back into the office. Abernathy glances sideways at the body lying in the dirt. She rolls her eyes and steps around the bush. Spencer had his eyes shut tight. There were noises on the other side of the bush that frightened him. ‘Is she gone yet?’ The sound of a lighter kills his faint wish. “Hey pervert, get out from behind the bushes will ya?” No answer. He continues to silently pray to himself. “You must have dirt all over you.”
“Stop talking to the bushes. There is no one here,” Spencer mutters. Dirt flicks into his mouth. He coughs it out. He turns his head sideways. Through the gapping bottom from the ground to the leaves of the bush he sees her back.
The same laugh he heard this morning rings in his ears again. “You are silly, Mister Stalker.” She lies down on the sidewalk and stares at him. “Who, may I ask, are you? And why the hell are you stalking me? How long have you been stalking me?” She pushes her lips to the side and exhales smoke into the air. “Did I do something wrong?”
“I am not stalking you. We just happen to be at the same place at the same time. I go to this therapist.”
“Michelle is your psycho doctor, too?” He nods. She squints at him. “Have we met before?”
“No, never. We don’t know each other. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to keep running into you,or whatever. Just forget about me.”
“But I don’t want to. You interest me, sir Creeper,” Abernathy inhales a lungful of smoke. She extends a hand towards Spencer. “Hello stalker; my name is Tiger Lily.” He shakes her fingers and retracts his dirty hand from her. A giggle escapes her.
Words roll around his tongue but leave him tongue tied. “I--I'm--My name is--”
“It’s cool. You can tell me your name some other day. After all, you know where I live, work, and go to for therapy,” she interrupts him. “I have to go anyway. See you later, Peeping Tom.”