Moonlight poured in from the window farthest from the door onto the mattress, the pale light keeps me awake on nights like that one but I’m not sure why. I think it’s the little emptiness she left behind, the Audrey-shaped concaved spot in the mattress she leaves sometimes. Tangled sheets and a sunken part of the pillow that she left. I didn’t touch it, saving her spot for when she gets back, I told myself. I stared at it a little longer before I rolled over and wrapped myself in the flowery blanket we usually shared. I tried not to worry about her too much, she always came back, no matter how long I waited. I took in a breath of the fabric and smelled her usual lilac and sweat-infused smell. She always wore lilac to cover up the smell of sweat that was never very noticeable, to begin with. I take another breath of sweaty lilacs as I lulled myself to sleep when a noise snapped me from my trance.
A wrapping at my window. The tapping was light but noticeable in its rapid succession. Refocusing my attention, I noticed a shadow spread across the bed in the moonlight. I sighed both of relief and frustration. I hated those things, though I knew they only meant good things. They just creeped me out to no end. I turned myself to face the noise and the tapping stopped. I was met with red eyes the glow against the dark silhouette of a dark, skinny figure. The creature was no taller than a toddler and it’s wrist couldn’t’ve been thicker than three inches. The creature's hand was wrapped up in a fist as it hung in the air having only just stopped knocking. Its knuckles were bulbous and skin seemed to be wrapped too tightly around the skinny frame of the creature. If you asked me what they were I would never be able to give a proper explanation besides that despite their vaguely grotesque exterior they meant that Audrey would be coming home and that was all I really cared about. I long since stopped trying to figure out what they were, tiny bastards. All I could gather was that they were small, skinny and darker than a shadow, and yet whatever detail I could make out in them felt wrong in remembrance. Its eyes bored into me as I merely glared. It gave a small, reptilian growl before it skittered off. I laid in bed a little longer, unwilling to leave my soft cotton prison for this tiny creature as a wordless messenger. I stared back at the spot Audrey left.
I grabbed two folding chairs, blankets, and pillows before I unlocked the front door. I gassed up the fire pit before flicking a lit match into it. The flames rose as I continue my near-nightly ritual. I brought out some marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers, and started the roasting process. The street lamps glowed a pale orange as the night rolls on, usually, they irritate my eyes but my focus was on the fire and sugary sweetness it burned. Despite the burning fire in front me, a smell quaffed into my nostrils I found too poignant to be burnt marshmallows. As the minutes passed and the smell grew in strength, I still sat consuming my s’mores, wrapped in the warmth of cotton and linen. The chair beside mine was stained with too many things for me to remember where they all came from but I just waited.
Footsteps on the tile to the house brought me back from my near sugar-comma. I turned and there she was. Stumbling her way up to the house, covered in a dark goo that smelled strangely like tar. I stood and met her at the entrance of the porch. I didn’t ask anything as she persistently tried to not stare at me in her state. I moved to hug her but she keeps her distance. “No need for both of us to get messy,” she says. It’s easy to tell when Audrey is anxious about something, but it’s just as equally hard to get her to say why. I chuckle a bit, hoping to ease her worries a bit before I moved beside her in her chair and handed her the probably very cold s’more I made for her half an hour ago. She hesitated for a moment before she took it without touching me and scarfed it down like she hadn’t eaten in days. Which made sense, last time I saw her she was being pulled into the asphalt on 4th Avenue two days ago. I passed her my cold cup of honey chamomile and watched as she chugged the tea before she exhaling deeply. I waited patiently for her to meet my eyes or touch my hand but all she did was slouch in her chair and stare longingly into the fire. Like she longed for something within it.
“Do I get a story tonight?” I asked, inquisitively. It’s a moment before she stares at me with a look of confusion before her face relaxed and I get to see her smile. She offered the least messy part of her, her hand, and I took whatever I could get. She sighs and looks at me with those bold blue eyes.
“Well, I guess it started with a kid.” Her voice rang through the night.
Based on a cancer horoscope by Dappermouth on Tumblr.
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