Okay so I’m home alone at the moment, right? I was napping on the floor in front of the heater (I tend to do this a lot) in the back room, which has these big glass windows out onto my garden. Suddenly the phone rings, and thinking it might be my dad telling me where he is, I go to pick it up. I say hello. There is no answer.
I say hello twice more. The phone line remains deadly silent. I decide that I will say hello one more time and then hang up. The single-word question hangs in the empty quiet for a moment, before I hear a cool, automated voice reply,
“Goodbye.”
Argh it is so horrifying! I hang up quickly and then proceed to lock my back door. Now I’m sitting back in front of the heater and writing this. There’re footsteps outside. It ought to be dad, but they aren’t coming inside. I think I’m reading too much into the non-entrance of the footsteps into my house. Everything is now quiet outside. Pitch-black, of course. Maude’s sitting up at the window, head cocked, on guard. I’m psyching myself out now. There’s no noise. If that was my dad before, those noises outside, he would have come in by now. Still there’s nothing.
I’m really scared. Obviously not so scared that I can’t write this blog post. But still, when that voice said “goodbye” my heart almost beat out of my chest. It hasn’t quite settled back down yet. The door’s locked, though, so I’m safe – although I left in unlocked all the time I was sleeping. Now I’m thinking that there’s someone in my house, I’m starting to go into Home Alone mode, there’s a silver three-pronged candlestick within arm’s reach (it’s like a trident), and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, and a big red photo frame with a picture of me in Central Park the year before last. And there’s my computer, although I’d be too scared that I’d lose documents to use it as a weapon – she needs to sort out her priorities. The candlestick is my best bet, it weighs about two kilos, and it’s just one of those classic weapons (Professor Plum in the library with the candlestick).
The candlestick is beside me and I’m ready to grab it and take a swing at any intruder. I’m really scared now. I dim the lights in the back room so I can see outside without the reflection on the window. I crouch behind the lounge and watch Maude out of the corner of my eye, still sitting alert on top of the couch and staring out into the night. I’m thinking that I should probably click the “Post” button before someone kills me, as evidence, you know? But then I want to type as much as possible, as evidence, you know? It’s a conundrum. I type with both hands as fast as possible but keep the candlestick in the crook of my knee.
I suppose right now, as you read this, you’re thinking none of this is real. It is, though. Maybe I have a vivid imagination, but unless I was hallucinating (I did only get three hours of sleep last night), an unknown voice did say “goodbye” to me on the phone JUST BEFORE I hung up, and I can hear rustles outside in my garden, and my dog is alert at the window, and ... oh my gosh a siren is going off ... not just any siren, a police car siren, it’s really close, oh my gosh there’s a murderer on the loose! I can’t help it but my mind flicks to one of the few scary movies I’ve seen, the one with the girl in the massive house, and the phone call, and the ‘have you checked the children?’ business, and the big glass windows thing ...
I'm going to post this now before it's too late. I just heard a thump outside. Maude did too, her ears are up. I am so so so scared. If I'm still alive in half an hour, I'll write again.
Remember, I'll always love you like ... like ... like ... overactive imaginations?
Some things you just can't make up, though.
x
