Gazelle
New Member
Generally, in the month of January, nights get kind of weird. It could be anything from some drunken argument between my friends and my mother or some evidential spiritual intervention insisting that all of the cupboards be open at once. Celebratory New Year's decorations are going down to reveal street signs that would soon be stolen and super glued to walls in dark themed bedrooms. My entire neighborhood is kind of rowdy, so kids younger than me, maybe 14-16 would sneak outside together to exchange Christmas money for e-cigarettes. Some of the kids who had been smoking for a while would buy other things. I didn't do that, but one Christmas when I was fifteen I did trade a replacement skateboard for weed. My mom noticed immediately and it was confiscated, so I never tried it again.
By the end of January, I had a conversation with my mom about something odd I had been seeing regularly. I would drive across one of the bridges nearby a particular area on my way to work and back where there was a grassy clearing which I wanted to bring friend of mine, Delilah, to for a get together of sorts. Oftentimes, though, when I drove by I would notice men in varying colors of business suits (blue, dark gray, black) gathering there. The conversation, though, had started to kindle inside of my mother, and as I was explaining I could notice her shift to either side. "The problem is that they're meeting here, like, every week." I said, "I can't really..." At this point, she cut me off.
"You can't ask them to leave. Okay, I get that. But what should I really say to you about going there at all? Probably to not do it-" Quickly, I continued in a way that felt almost frantic. "I can't, like... She wouldn't want to come there if there's some kind of creepy dudes hanging around." My mom was sort of right, and I knew I was lying in a way so that I didn't lose permission. "I mean, why not just, like, call the housing people or somebody who knows what it could be about? So they can..."
I decided at this point to shut my mouth and instead cupped my chin in my hand while leaning against the living room's windowsill, looking at the road in front of our mailbox. I could still feel that was not only was my mother not worried about these guys' strange meetups but she didn't seem all that worried about Delilah either. I wanted to do something special for her, as she was one of my best female friends and her and I were both sick of the roller rink. My mother didn't say anything at this point, just sort of shrugging and turning back toward the television with an exasperated, 'I don't know what to tell you' sort of look on her face. I don't know what show was on but I could see a flash of bright colors from dancers who looked a little like they were pacing around the screen. I stayed in the living room for a few more minutes, trying to contemplate what to do.
The last time I had driven past said clearing, I didn't see anything. Today was January 28th, and February 4th, 7 days from now, was when I intended to have the picnic gathering with her and her friends. We had been talking about it for weeks, but I hadn't yet mentioned to her what I saw. Even I was rethinking the last drive now, though. What if they were there and just hiding somewhere in the snow covered bushes in their normal clothes? Like the creeps they were? "Weird ass dudes." I grunted, standing up from the couch. "I'm not gonna worry about it." I said, glancing at my mom while returning to my room where I called Delilah. Eventually, I mentioned seeing some guys that were very out of place by the bridge, which was followed by her making several jokes that made me feel considerately better. I do still remember, though, her saying while cracking up, "That probably wasn't even they usual spot. Probably under my bed." And ended up feeling like I said more than I should have.
The same night, I woke up while in the middle of tossing and turning in my sleep to what sounded like my doorknob jiggling. It was a super brief sort of jingling sound from the left of me, and I immediately sat up and looked toward the door. In the same moment, it seemed to have stopped.
I hopped up out of my bed, wide eyed and only in pajama pants, and reached underneath the excess of my blanket to roll out and grab a baseball bat. I was rubbing my fingers in the grooves of the carved out signature nervously while approaching my bedroom door, trying my best not to think twice about how the problem would manifest itself. My mother never fumbled around like this, it almost felt like someone was trying to check for someone inside. I switched it to my other hand in an airy exchange, considering lifting it up over my head already as I pulled the door open quickly. Nobody was there. I could have calmed down, passed it off as a ghost, and went to back to bed immediately, to be honest, given the way my shoulders and lower back felt at the time. Still freaked out though, I passed through the doorway and tried to maintain my what-the-fuck-is-going-on by shooting two steady glances down either limit of the hallway. After a stagnant thirty seconds of standing outside of my bedroom door, I returned inside and went back to sleep, shifting until the keys in my pajama pocket weren't poking into my thigh.
That morning, I was more than prepared to video call Delilah. "Okay, then how the HELL was that not a ghost?" Delilah said, probably hearing my cereal spoon cling against the side of the bowl. "Nobody there, no shadow, nothing?" She continued. "Like, I'm glad it wasn't an intruder but part of me is like, what if he's squatting in your attic right now and nobody knows?" I laughed a little bit. "I don't know," I said, head downturned and eyes darting between Coco Puffs. "I think it was a ghost. Remember when we were in the woods and you thought you saw some kind of like, tiny gnome thing? It was probably that thing's, like, predator. Like it would probably eat Mr. Woods." Delilah burst out into a laughing fit. My mom entered the room shortly thereafter, eyeing my bowl as I tried to prop my phone up against the napkin holder.
"You're gonna finish that before 8am. Nobody wants soggy cerea-" My mom started before I bit back knowingly, "I'm not eating soggy cereal." I widened my eyes at Delilah over our video call. Mom was quiet for a few moments, heading toward the sink, before saying, "And stop showing off for Delilah, I meant it."
She began doing dishes when my eyes awkwardly returned to my phone, which read 7:49AM, before they began studying Delilah's red and black hair for a few moments. It was noticably shiny under the light fixed on her bedroom fan and the strands which were dyed fell on either side of her cheeks in long pieces. She pulled out a basket full of makeup and I looked at her nose ring momentarily before she picked up her phone, turned it around, and tilted the front screen downward, showing me the collection of palettes and brushes inside. I saw her hand rustling inside, moving purple and pink eyeshadows around. "See how I have to kinda, dig for the stuff I actually use?" She mumbled to me, and my eyes focused on the highlighter and small angled brush she picked out while rummaging into the bottom corner of the basket. "This is my favorite one."
She propped her phone up also and I took a few more bites of my cereal, trying to think of how to respond. She hummed along to a song that her dad started playing loudly in the living room and began applying highlighter to her bare face. "So, you're supposed to do the foundation and blush then like the contour... Well... Okay, so. You're supposed to do everything else first, and then the like, blush, and then... Y'know... But I'm going to put highlighter first..." She trailed off but I tried to stay focused on what she was doing for the minute or so it took. Honestly, I could only see the difference in the cheap shimmer on her face because she applied such a large smudge. "Usually it glows more," she said, looking at me. "But I'm trying to like... Really cake it on..."
I finished my cereal and placed in the bowl in the sink, where my mother was still standing. She looked like she had something to tell me but it could wait, just grabbing the bowl and beginning to wash it before the two plates that were left. I grabbed my phone and entered the living room, letting myself fall onto the couch and slinging one leg over the arm, the heel of my foot touching the windowsill. I held my phone above my face, checking my small window in the corner a few times to be sure my hair hadn't fallen out of place. This was something I was complimented on regularly, so I tried to maintain it decently. "I still think you dyed some of your hair red cause of me." I joked to Delilah.
"Oh yeah, for sure." She mumbled back, smiling, and began applying a heavy, dark vintage pink color on her cheeks with a much larger brush. "Your m-mom," she started to mess around but caught herself, her eyes widening this time and her lips pursing. "Sorry." I huffed on an unrelated note, wondering for a second what I needed to do for the rest of the day. I didn't have work, as it was a Thursday, and I wouldn't have work tomorrow either. I had been thinking that Delilah and I could meet up today, but I was starting to think my plan was faulty given the state the road was in.
"Icy," I huffed again. "Do you think you can come over today?" She looked at me with a brighter smile this time. "Of course I can. I'm gonna walk. What, like, the roads are icy?"
"Yeah, the roads are icy." I mumbled, sitting up a little bit. "I don't have work tomorrow either." I continued to think. I needed to salt the roads, which my mother liked for me to do 'just to help', as well as take the trash out, clean the guest room from Christmas visits, whatever else. "Look, look, I have this from Christmas," she said at what seemed like the perfect time. "Black lip gloss." My eyes narrowed a little at it. "Black lipstick?"
"Well, it's lip gloss." She corrected. "From my... oldest cousin. Look, it looks good if you wear it like this, on just the top lip." Delilah began to apply it accordingly and I felt my mind continue to wander for a second. Was it trash then salt the roads? Because I dreaded salting the roads, and I couldn't yet afford the new pair of work boots I wanted. The slick on the ground outside was much more slippery than the floors of a fast food restaurant, and would've liked to put off dealing with the ice for as long as possible. "But really... I think I'm gonna do the bottom lip too."
Eventually, I said, "I'm gonna hang up," sighing through my nose. "I have chores to do."
By the end of January, I had a conversation with my mom about something odd I had been seeing regularly. I would drive across one of the bridges nearby a particular area on my way to work and back where there was a grassy clearing which I wanted to bring friend of mine, Delilah, to for a get together of sorts. Oftentimes, though, when I drove by I would notice men in varying colors of business suits (blue, dark gray, black) gathering there. The conversation, though, had started to kindle inside of my mother, and as I was explaining I could notice her shift to either side. "The problem is that they're meeting here, like, every week." I said, "I can't really..." At this point, she cut me off.
"You can't ask them to leave. Okay, I get that. But what should I really say to you about going there at all? Probably to not do it-" Quickly, I continued in a way that felt almost frantic. "I can't, like... She wouldn't want to come there if there's some kind of creepy dudes hanging around." My mom was sort of right, and I knew I was lying in a way so that I didn't lose permission. "I mean, why not just, like, call the housing people or somebody who knows what it could be about? So they can..."
I decided at this point to shut my mouth and instead cupped my chin in my hand while leaning against the living room's windowsill, looking at the road in front of our mailbox. I could still feel that was not only was my mother not worried about these guys' strange meetups but she didn't seem all that worried about Delilah either. I wanted to do something special for her, as she was one of my best female friends and her and I were both sick of the roller rink. My mother didn't say anything at this point, just sort of shrugging and turning back toward the television with an exasperated, 'I don't know what to tell you' sort of look on her face. I don't know what show was on but I could see a flash of bright colors from dancers who looked a little like they were pacing around the screen. I stayed in the living room for a few more minutes, trying to contemplate what to do.
The last time I had driven past said clearing, I didn't see anything. Today was January 28th, and February 4th, 7 days from now, was when I intended to have the picnic gathering with her and her friends. We had been talking about it for weeks, but I hadn't yet mentioned to her what I saw. Even I was rethinking the last drive now, though. What if they were there and just hiding somewhere in the snow covered bushes in their normal clothes? Like the creeps they were? "Weird ass dudes." I grunted, standing up from the couch. "I'm not gonna worry about it." I said, glancing at my mom while returning to my room where I called Delilah. Eventually, I mentioned seeing some guys that were very out of place by the bridge, which was followed by her making several jokes that made me feel considerately better. I do still remember, though, her saying while cracking up, "That probably wasn't even they usual spot. Probably under my bed." And ended up feeling like I said more than I should have.
The same night, I woke up while in the middle of tossing and turning in my sleep to what sounded like my doorknob jiggling. It was a super brief sort of jingling sound from the left of me, and I immediately sat up and looked toward the door. In the same moment, it seemed to have stopped.
I hopped up out of my bed, wide eyed and only in pajama pants, and reached underneath the excess of my blanket to roll out and grab a baseball bat. I was rubbing my fingers in the grooves of the carved out signature nervously while approaching my bedroom door, trying my best not to think twice about how the problem would manifest itself. My mother never fumbled around like this, it almost felt like someone was trying to check for someone inside. I switched it to my other hand in an airy exchange, considering lifting it up over my head already as I pulled the door open quickly. Nobody was there. I could have calmed down, passed it off as a ghost, and went to back to bed immediately, to be honest, given the way my shoulders and lower back felt at the time. Still freaked out though, I passed through the doorway and tried to maintain my what-the-fuck-is-going-on by shooting two steady glances down either limit of the hallway. After a stagnant thirty seconds of standing outside of my bedroom door, I returned inside and went back to sleep, shifting until the keys in my pajama pocket weren't poking into my thigh.
That morning, I was more than prepared to video call Delilah. "Okay, then how the HELL was that not a ghost?" Delilah said, probably hearing my cereal spoon cling against the side of the bowl. "Nobody there, no shadow, nothing?" She continued. "Like, I'm glad it wasn't an intruder but part of me is like, what if he's squatting in your attic right now and nobody knows?" I laughed a little bit. "I don't know," I said, head downturned and eyes darting between Coco Puffs. "I think it was a ghost. Remember when we were in the woods and you thought you saw some kind of like, tiny gnome thing? It was probably that thing's, like, predator. Like it would probably eat Mr. Woods." Delilah burst out into a laughing fit. My mom entered the room shortly thereafter, eyeing my bowl as I tried to prop my phone up against the napkin holder.
"You're gonna finish that before 8am. Nobody wants soggy cerea-" My mom started before I bit back knowingly, "I'm not eating soggy cereal." I widened my eyes at Delilah over our video call. Mom was quiet for a few moments, heading toward the sink, before saying, "And stop showing off for Delilah, I meant it."
She began doing dishes when my eyes awkwardly returned to my phone, which read 7:49AM, before they began studying Delilah's red and black hair for a few moments. It was noticably shiny under the light fixed on her bedroom fan and the strands which were dyed fell on either side of her cheeks in long pieces. She pulled out a basket full of makeup and I looked at her nose ring momentarily before she picked up her phone, turned it around, and tilted the front screen downward, showing me the collection of palettes and brushes inside. I saw her hand rustling inside, moving purple and pink eyeshadows around. "See how I have to kinda, dig for the stuff I actually use?" She mumbled to me, and my eyes focused on the highlighter and small angled brush she picked out while rummaging into the bottom corner of the basket. "This is my favorite one."
She propped her phone up also and I took a few more bites of my cereal, trying to think of how to respond. She hummed along to a song that her dad started playing loudly in the living room and began applying highlighter to her bare face. "So, you're supposed to do the foundation and blush then like the contour... Well... Okay, so. You're supposed to do everything else first, and then the like, blush, and then... Y'know... But I'm going to put highlighter first..." She trailed off but I tried to stay focused on what she was doing for the minute or so it took. Honestly, I could only see the difference in the cheap shimmer on her face because she applied such a large smudge. "Usually it glows more," she said, looking at me. "But I'm trying to like... Really cake it on..."
I finished my cereal and placed in the bowl in the sink, where my mother was still standing. She looked like she had something to tell me but it could wait, just grabbing the bowl and beginning to wash it before the two plates that were left. I grabbed my phone and entered the living room, letting myself fall onto the couch and slinging one leg over the arm, the heel of my foot touching the windowsill. I held my phone above my face, checking my small window in the corner a few times to be sure my hair hadn't fallen out of place. This was something I was complimented on regularly, so I tried to maintain it decently. "I still think you dyed some of your hair red cause of me." I joked to Delilah.
"Oh yeah, for sure." She mumbled back, smiling, and began applying a heavy, dark vintage pink color on her cheeks with a much larger brush. "Your m-mom," she started to mess around but caught herself, her eyes widening this time and her lips pursing. "Sorry." I huffed on an unrelated note, wondering for a second what I needed to do for the rest of the day. I didn't have work, as it was a Thursday, and I wouldn't have work tomorrow either. I had been thinking that Delilah and I could meet up today, but I was starting to think my plan was faulty given the state the road was in.
"Icy," I huffed again. "Do you think you can come over today?" She looked at me with a brighter smile this time. "Of course I can. I'm gonna walk. What, like, the roads are icy?"
"Yeah, the roads are icy." I mumbled, sitting up a little bit. "I don't have work tomorrow either." I continued to think. I needed to salt the roads, which my mother liked for me to do 'just to help', as well as take the trash out, clean the guest room from Christmas visits, whatever else. "Look, look, I have this from Christmas," she said at what seemed like the perfect time. "Black lip gloss." My eyes narrowed a little at it. "Black lipstick?"
"Well, it's lip gloss." She corrected. "From my... oldest cousin. Look, it looks good if you wear it like this, on just the top lip." Delilah began to apply it accordingly and I felt my mind continue to wander for a second. Was it trash then salt the roads? Because I dreaded salting the roads, and I couldn't yet afford the new pair of work boots I wanted. The slick on the ground outside was much more slippery than the floors of a fast food restaurant, and would've liked to put off dealing with the ice for as long as possible. "But really... I think I'm gonna do the bottom lip too."
Eventually, I said, "I'm gonna hang up," sighing through my nose. "I have chores to do."
