I'd Rather Shut My Eyes
Horror
horror, [hawr-er, hor-]: noun. Intense and profound fear.
***
Michaela pressed the talk button and held the phone up to her ear. "Hello?" she said as calmly as she could, despite her breathlessness.
There was silence on the other side of the line. "Hello? Anyone there?" she asked, getting a bit worried. It wasn't often she was left alone in the house. A second later there was the crackle of static and the phone started beeping. Hung up.
She put the phone down shakily on the counter, trying not to look around. Nervously she made her way to the darkening windows, from which she could see people hurrying to get home on time, wrapped up in coats and almost invisible. She pulled a cord and the blinds snapped down to block out the view, leaving the apartment in almost total darkness.
"Shit!" she exclaimed, then covered her mouth. Then she pulled her hand away.
Stupid. Why would anyone be around here? We have security. Just turn on the lights and the tv.
Michaela felt her way over to the kitchen counter, then to the closet where she'd thrown her shoes and bag only an hour before. Or was it more than an hour? She'd have to get some work done soon, it wouldn't be likely for any to get done over the weekend.
I don't even need to do work over the weekend, silly. It's summer vacation! I have weeks and weeks to get it done. Nothing due tomorrow either.
Just as she was about to press the light switches next to the closet, a BUZZZZ that she could feel through the soles of her feet made her shriek.
Then it came again, less insistent. Quieter. Then she realised what it was, and laughed at herself.
The intercom. Next time you're home alone, invite Hattie over; she's clear-headed about these things.
Michaela pressed the buttons under her hand and lights blazed overhead, throwing everything back into familiarity. She pressed the intercom buzzer with a still shaky hand and spoke into the speaker with a still shaky voice:
"Yes? Who-who is it?"
A loud voice with a hint of an accent replied almost immediately. "It is Kim, Michaela. Let me up! I have your order!"
Michaela grinned and hit the button that unlocked the downstairs doors. Kim worked as a delivery boy at Asian Hotpot, and she'd gotten to know him pretty well over the past year of ordering out every Monday night when she couldn't cook because of dance. Of course, now that she'd quit, she never saw him that often. Someone who could laugh at her for being so stupid, even if they couldn't stay longer.
A voice, muffled by the wall it was piercing, came from the hall outside. "Michaela, are you alright? Is anything wrong? I thought I heard screaming."
Mrs Johanassan. Such a stickybeak, nosey neighbour. She's been trying to catch me out for years, telling Moms stories of what happens when she isn't there. Trying to be employed as a babysitter. Pfft.
In a sickly sweet voice, she replied "Nothing, Mrs Johanassan. Startled by how dark it's gotten. So early for spring, isn't it?"
A disappointed silence radiated from the door, then Michaela heard footsteps leaving and a door opposite shutting. Then lighter, much lighter, footsteps came running up the hall, and she set about unlocking the door quickly. Throwing it open, she was hit by the slight form of Kim Ptuck.
"Michaela! Why did you quit dance? I have not earned as much since you stopped!" he cried, hugging her tightly.
"I got bored. I've been dancing for too long. Ten years is too long. Where's my food? Do you want to come in for a bite?"
He shook his head. "I am sorry Michaela, but today is very busy. I have to get back to work. But be sure to order again, soon! Every week!" He handed her a plastic bag containing her honey chicken, cold sushi wraps and hot rice stir-fry, and waited for Michaela to fetch the money from the towel drawer, along with an extra big tip.
Michaela grinned. "Every day, Kim! As often as I have the money for it!" She waved as he headed down the hallway. "Work harder! I almost had to wait half an hour!" she yelled as he entered the elevator, laughing as she headed back inside. Sitting the food on the bench, she started to lock the door again.
Just as the chain slid into place, the phone rang again.
Oh my God! I almost jumped out of my skin. I hope it's Moms, she'll reassure me. I didn't talk to Kim at all. Didn't tell him about how stupid I was, or…Oh no, I didn't mention I'm moving! Stupid!
She picked up the phone and pressed the talk button again. "Hello? Is anyone there?" she said, rather aggressively.
More static and crackling. She was just about to slam the phone into its cradle before she heard a faint voice.
"Hello? Hello? Hayley? Michaela?" a male voice called out from the speaker. "Who is this?"
Exactly. Who IS this? Some man calling up and knowing who lives here, that can't be good…
She put the phone back against her ear and cleared her through. "Michaela speaking…who is this, please?" Her mouth was dry.
"It's your father. How are you Michaela? School going well? How's the packing? Excited about this weekend?" the warm, familiar voice flooded her thoughts.
"Dad! Everything's great! I quit dance a while ago, but it doesn't matter. Moms told you about us moving in with Joe? Isn't that cool?"
There was silence, and then her father's voice came through again, puzzled.
"Moving in with Joe? Honey, you're moving here in with me and Luce, in Belleville."
Her heart dropped through her shoes.
***
Michaela pressed the talk button and held the phone up to her ear. "Hello?" she said as calmly as she could, despite her breathlessness.
There was silence on the other side of the line. "Hello? Anyone there?" she asked, getting a bit worried. It wasn't often she was left alone in the house. A second later there was the crackle of static and the phone started beeping. Hung up.
She put the phone down shakily on the counter, trying not to look around. Nervously she made her way to the darkening windows, from which she could see people hurrying to get home on time, wrapped up in coats and almost invisible. She pulled a cord and the blinds snapped down to block out the view, leaving the apartment in almost total darkness.
"Shit!" she exclaimed, then covered her mouth. Then she pulled her hand away.
Stupid. Why would anyone be around here? We have security. Just turn on the lights and the tv.
Michaela felt her way over to the kitchen counter, then to the closet where she'd thrown her shoes and bag only an hour before. Or was it more than an hour? She'd have to get some work done soon, it wouldn't be likely for any to get done over the weekend.
I don't even need to do work over the weekend, silly. It's summer vacation! I have weeks and weeks to get it done. Nothing due tomorrow either.
Just as she was about to press the light switches next to the closet, a BUZZZZ that she could feel through the soles of her feet made her shriek.
Then it came again, less insistent. Quieter. Then she realised what it was, and laughed at herself.
The intercom. Next time you're home alone, invite Hattie over; she's clear-headed about these things.
Michaela pressed the buttons under her hand and lights blazed overhead, throwing everything back into familiarity. She pressed the intercom buzzer with a still shaky hand and spoke into the speaker with a still shaky voice:
"Yes? Who-who is it?"
A loud voice with a hint of an accent replied almost immediately. "It is Kim, Michaela. Let me up! I have your order!"
Michaela grinned and hit the button that unlocked the downstairs doors. Kim worked as a delivery boy at Asian Hotpot, and she'd gotten to know him pretty well over the past year of ordering out every Monday night when she couldn't cook because of dance. Of course, now that she'd quit, she never saw him that often. Someone who could laugh at her for being so stupid, even if they couldn't stay longer.
A voice, muffled by the wall it was piercing, came from the hall outside. "Michaela, are you alright? Is anything wrong? I thought I heard screaming."
Mrs Johanassan. Such a stickybeak, nosey neighbour. She's been trying to catch me out for years, telling Moms stories of what happens when she isn't there. Trying to be employed as a babysitter. Pfft.
In a sickly sweet voice, she replied "Nothing, Mrs Johanassan. Startled by how dark it's gotten. So early for spring, isn't it?"
A disappointed silence radiated from the door, then Michaela heard footsteps leaving and a door opposite shutting. Then lighter, much lighter, footsteps came running up the hall, and she set about unlocking the door quickly. Throwing it open, she was hit by the slight form of Kim Ptuck.
"Michaela! Why did you quit dance? I have not earned as much since you stopped!" he cried, hugging her tightly.
"I got bored. I've been dancing for too long. Ten years is too long. Where's my food? Do you want to come in for a bite?"
He shook his head. "I am sorry Michaela, but today is very busy. I have to get back to work. But be sure to order again, soon! Every week!" He handed her a plastic bag containing her honey chicken, cold sushi wraps and hot rice stir-fry, and waited for Michaela to fetch the money from the towel drawer, along with an extra big tip.
Michaela grinned. "Every day, Kim! As often as I have the money for it!" She waved as he headed down the hallway. "Work harder! I almost had to wait half an hour!" she yelled as he entered the elevator, laughing as she headed back inside. Sitting the food on the bench, she started to lock the door again.
Just as the chain slid into place, the phone rang again.
Oh my God! I almost jumped out of my skin. I hope it's Moms, she'll reassure me. I didn't talk to Kim at all. Didn't tell him about how stupid I was, or…Oh no, I didn't mention I'm moving! Stupid!
She picked up the phone and pressed the talk button again. "Hello? Is anyone there?" she said, rather aggressively.
More static and crackling. She was just about to slam the phone into its cradle before she heard a faint voice.
"Hello? Hello? Hayley? Michaela?" a male voice called out from the speaker. "Who is this?"
Exactly. Who IS this? Some man calling up and knowing who lives here, that can't be good…
She put the phone back against her ear and cleared her through. "Michaela speaking…who is this, please?" Her mouth was dry.
"It's your father. How are you Michaela? School going well? How's the packing? Excited about this weekend?" the warm, familiar voice flooded her thoughts.
"Dad! Everything's great! I quit dance a while ago, but it doesn't matter. Moms told you about us moving in with Joe? Isn't that cool?"
There was silence, and then her father's voice came through again, puzzled.
"Moving in with Joe? Honey, you're moving here in with me and Luce, in Belleville."
Her heart dropped through her shoes.