Story tag

Forum game.
You post the next bit of story.
Boo yah.
Make it ready for a hand-off


It was a dark day; one far darker than most. The TV flickered painfully on static snow and jaded susperstars. The garbage truck could be heard outside. On a moring of apathetic sloth such as this, one could not have expected what happend next...

I see her jogging every day, rain or shine. I had never spoken to her and never wanted to. It is a moment every day, like a clock striking noon, that you only truly notice when it doesn't happen. I sat sipping my green tea and daydreaming. Looking out on the sodden grass. And, like clockwork, she came. I only barely noticed the silver SUV coming around the corner. It happened in slow motion and I couldn't believe my eyes.

It's smoked glass windows reflected the sun peeking from the clouds above as it slid noiselessly down our street. It passed between her and I without any fuss then carried on it's way. It's speed never wavered, never changed. However when she appeared again at the rear of the vehicle I could tell from her stride that something was amis.

Her strange amish stride was caused by wooden clogs she wore even when running. I didn't even know that Amish people lived in the community, or even the state, and I decided to ask her about it.

We ended up having a good laugh. We had gone to dinner, she had ordered the shoofly pie with some applebutter. I've never had a desert so good. I knew something was wrong. I reached for the pie, yet it was no longer tangable. I reached for the woman I, never even knew her name, but she was fading from existance, and it was terrible.

Terrible as it was, as I woke I realized I was falling from my bed. As intangible as the night had been I felt strangely aroused. Why am I doomed to such perversion? What causes these midnight liasons to bring me such carnal distress. I rose from the floor and went to the latrine to relieve myself. The blinds were open to the street and I gazed out as I cascaded an amber fountain of nightly terror into the bowl. As I gazed onto the street I realized with the fog of r.e.m. lifting what I was seeing. I had never seen her jog by in the dark of night.....

She haunts my dreams and now I see her when I'm awake - but who is she, or what phantom of my subconscious does she represent? My diseased brain adds impossible details... clogs... Amish... glittering wings... Meerschaum pipe... What is real and what is false? What can I trust? I grip the cold porcelain sink and contort my face in despair. If I could... touch her... I would know. I would know she exists in the world and not just in my imagination.

Have you ever had a dream that you were so sure was real... I thought to myself. Perhaps the notion of the Dutch can be explained by my falling asleep with the Travel channel on. But what to make of this woman; this presence she has? Do I imagine her from day to day? Her form and existance, all false fragment I created? My world worries me. My mind, however, that outright frightens me. Am I even awake right now? Have I ever been? I peer into the bathroom mirror, looking for some ease in my own unmerrited being. The bulb flickers.

just before the whining pop of the faulty bulb pierces my aural cavities, i swear..
the mirror..

it rippled.

standing cold and confused in the dark, my senses at first dulled, now sharpening in the absence of the sensory stimulation of my vision. as i stand there pondering the merit of the world i perceive around me, i hear her..

that whispering..

the promise of dreams unfulfilled, the temptation of her madness licking at my soul.

it seems to have been ages since i stumbled upon the small tavern where i first saw her. who have i become and what nightmares did i awaken that night at her ethereal behest?

Time passes, I find myself in an ice-cold bath. I peer around, sight still blurred. The bathroom is dim, but lit as it always was - my mirror looked no different either. I realize how cold I am as I move my wet hair from my face and attempt to stand. I slip a little as I rise, managing to stumble to the living room and wrap my self in the blanket from my couch. The television is still flickering. Were my memories real? What day is it? Who is this woman? I grimmaced, still shivering.

I managed to dress myself, and grabbed my keys. I willed myself to find the pub where I met her-- or imagined her. I slumped to my SUV, with a feeling of deja vu. I was in no condition to drive.

"Heigh-o, Silver," I whisper as I put the SUV into gear. And wait... what am I trying to think of... what am I trying to dredge up from my confused imaginings? I shake the feeling off and inch backwards then forward to get out of the cramped parking spot. Wheeling down the road, I lower the windows and feel the rush of air hit me.

I needed the air. Unsure if this bar exists, I strugle to think of where it might be. I make three lefts around my block then stop to gain my bearings. Where the Hell am I going? Where do I begin? I take a deep breath and make the final left, deciding I'd have a clearer mind in the morning.

As I turn, once again, I see the woman. Almost in slow motion I peer through the half-open tinted passenger-side window of my SUV, trailing her with all of my senses, tracing her aura with every breath. She never jogs at night. She is illumated, the streetlights acting as stagelights, drowning out all other light except the blue glow of my TV through my curtains. A change in pressure from my open widow; I sense the warmth of a too-bright light growing from where my attention should be - the road in front of me. I quickly adjust to avoid the car going the wrong way on my one-way street.

I remeber the girl. I hit the brakes. I peer behind me, and through every mirror in my car, hoping to locate her. She is gone. Perhaps she doubled-back. Perhaps not. I look ahead, I had passed my driveway. I would not be able to sleep tonight.