haleyscomets: halley's comet (Default)
 I’ve been feeling really stagnant lately.

Day in, day out. Every day just more of the same. And then we do it all over again.

I get up. I kiss her goodbye. I take myself to class. I sit. I pay attention. I take notes. 

I get up, leave, get to the next classroom. Do it again. 

I come home and she isn’t there.

Fill my time with meaningless things. Do some homework. Go to bed alone. 

Then a new day starts, and I do it again. 

And again.

Again.

An endless cycle of going through the motions. Floating through my life like foam on the sea. I keep my eyes open, but I could do it all in my sleep. I’m just treading water. 

Now and then something bubbles to the surface. Interest. Passion. A sparkle at the bottom of the pool. I get all worked up to dive down and take the thing, seize it, wrap my fingers around it and squeeze it into my palm. A help wanted flyer. A study abroad scholarship taking applications. An internship position. 

But where will it lead? What would make that any different than what I’m already doing? It’d be new and exciting (uncomfortable) for a little while, but then? I get used to it. And then I’m just going through different motions. And I’d find myself treading water again, this time across the pond. Maybe it’s sunnier there… 

But it’s too late, I’d already talked myself out of it. I probably wouldn’t be able to afford it anyway. I can only really afford to take risks I know are going to pay off in the end, and you can never know. So I pass it up. 

One night I get home and she is there.

I’m so surprised it’s like my mind malfunctions, rejects the new reality in favor of the stable pattern it’s used to, and I walk right by her in the kitchen without acknowledgement. 

She doesn’t turn to watch me pass. I wonder if I’ve had some glitch in the matrix and she isn’t really there. And how would I even know the difference? As long as this figment of my imagination kisses me goodbye in the morning, does it really make a difference? Nothing changes. 

So I go about my evening as usual. I watch Netflix for a while. I half-halfheartedly pick at the keys on my laptop until I have a solid B- essay. I wash my face and go to bed. 

Just as I’m falling asleep, I suddenly jolt awake. Is she still just standing there in the kitchen? If she’d left, would I have noticed? I didn’t hear the front door open or close, but I’d had my headphones in most of the night. She isn’t one to hold a grudge, so I don’t think she’d have left without saying anything. Right? Wait, why would she be mad? Is this about before? I didn’t say hi in the kitchen. No, before that? What was there before that? I came home. Nothing happened. Earlier. A year ago? She wouldn’t hold a grudge that long, she doesn’t hold grudges. Wait, what happened a year ago? What could’ve happened? I do the same damn thing every day. Then why is she mad at me? She isn’t mad. She isn’t even here. Why do I think she’s mad? What makes me think she isn’t here? She was in the kitchen earlier. Wasn’t she? I saw her. I didn’t look at her face. Did I look at her face? Did I see her expression? I didn’t look. Then how do I know for sure? I don’t. How could I see her without looking?

I get up out of bed. I walk slowly to the kitchen. It’s empty.

Maybe I’ll ask her about it in the morning. 

Part 13

Apr. 13th, 2017 06:14 pm
haleyscomets: halley's comet (Default)
 “So…have you ever…done it?”

When me and my girlfriend first started hooking up I had no idea what I was doing. I was new to lesbianism and to relationships in general.

 I remember the first time I ever interacted with a self-described lesbian, in my first year of college. We had a statistics class together. In my opinion, math is quite possibly the least sexy thing in the world, but during one of our group project meetings the topic arose. The third member of our group, a frat boy named Devin, had missed our meeting for the fourth time in a row. 

“He’s probably out getting laid,” she’d remarked.

 It was a Friday night. Somehow neither of us had plans of our own. I was still a world-class shut in at the time, but my partner seemed normal enough. I jokingly said that that sounded a lot better than formatting bar graphs.

She snorted. “Sure does. And I totally would be if my girlfriend weren’t out of town. No offense.” She grinned. “I mean I’m having a great time here and all but…”

She trailed off. Meanwhile my mind was reeling. A real, live lesbian. Right in front of me! I came from a fairly small town where most people still consider homosexuality to be some kind of new trendy thing all the kids are doing to mess with their parents.

My partner must have noticed my expression when she glanced up from her laptop. “Something wrong?”

“I…no. Sorry, I-I just,” I fumbled over my words, trying to explain quickly lest my reaction seem homophobic. “I’ve just never met another lesbian before.”

There was a beat of silence wherein I wondered if that was indeed the awkwardest thing I could’ve said. I was also silently wrestling with the fact that it was the first time I’d referred to myself that way out loud. Despite being only three syllables, the word felt large in my mouth, like I couldn’t fit my lips all the way around it. It felt weird to describe myself with a word I barely knew.

“Oh.” She blinked.

We moved into a little discussion about small-minded hometowns and homophobia and how nice it was to be away at school in a larger city. She told me that she met her girlfriend during orientation, and asked me whether I had met anyone cute on campus.

“Um, well,” I laughed, embarrassed. “There’s this one girl.”

She tried to tease details out of me, but I shyly refused. Said I didn’t want to jinx it by talking about it.

“Well, if you ever need lesbian relationship advice you can call me anytime.” She winked at me. “I know what it’s like to go through all that for the first time. I wish I’d had someone to talk to about it.”

I started to open my mouth, though better of it, then smiled and nodded. 

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

A few minutes later, we were in the middle of spreadsheet-ing when my curiosity overcame me.

“Hey…can I ask you something?”

“Fire away.” She grinned again. She was so friendly.

“Something…pretty personal.”

“Go ahead. I’m an open book.”

I shifted uneasily in my seat. 

“So…have you ever…done it?”

Another beat of silence as she stared at me, probably wondering whether I’m serious. I can tell that she wants to laugh and I feel pathetic but she composes herself.

“Yes,” she says. “Yes I have done it.”   

“So, um,” I squirm a little more. I hate myself for asking but when am I gonna get this chance again? I don’t know any other lesbians. “How do you…uh…”

“How do I have sex with a woman?”

I flinch. It sounds so…base just spelled out like that, but I’m grateful that she said it before I had to. I nod anxiously. 

She exhales slowly. “Well,” she starts in a tone that is usually followed by ‘when two people love each other very much…’ in TV and movies.

It isn’t often you meet someone willing to explain sex to you, who doesn’t want to have sex with you. And willing she was. I left that group meeting a changed woman. We texted for a while after that semester, but gradually lost touch. We never got very close, but I miss her sometimes.

And, I hate to say it, but I thought of her the first time we had sex.

Part 12

Apr. 12th, 2017 06:14 pm
haleyscomets: halley's comet (Default)
 *BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

I jolt awake. Wow, that sure was a weird dream. I don’t know anyone named Brianna. Never have.

I slap my alarm clock into silence and then pick it up to peer into its face. In the dark of my room I barely make out the numbers “8:05″.

“Shit,” I curse, swinging my legs out of bed and nearly jogging to the bathroom. I must have hit the snooze button without realizing. I’m gonna be fucking late again.   

I zip through my morning routine, making sure to kiss my girlfriend on the cheek before running out the door. Gray clouds loom overhead, but my classes today are close by the apartment so I decide not to take the car. Besides, I’m practically a champion speed-walker; there’s a chance I can get there faster by foot if I take the right short-cuts.

Securing my backpack over both shoulders, I shift into a gentle sprint, shuffling along the sidewalk at a pace that should require me to bend my knees a lot more. I cut through the alley by the taco shack, jay-walk across Main Street, and am turning to circumvent the low brick wall at the edge of campus (construction by the university’s entrance means the school’s main thoroughfare is constantly getting clogged with students who end up being late to all their classes and I know that if I cut through the library via the back entrance I can come out ahead of the crowd) when I catch a glimpse of something that makes me stop in my tracks. 

A shadowy figure, one that retreats as soon as I whip around to face it. I stare at the clump of trees next to the crosswalk. I could’ve sworn…

Oh well, no time for this. 

I kick it into overdrive, pumping my arms but still not quite running in a way that makes me feel ridiculous, but this is one of those desperate times. I fly in and out of the library, elbow my way through a throng of aimless freshman, and throw myself up the stairs of my class building. Panting and sweaty, I slide into a seat at the back of the classroom just as the professor passes the attendance sheet to a girl at near his desk to be handed around. 

Thank god. 

Part 11

Apr. 11th, 2017 06:13 pm
haleyscomets: halley's comet (Default)
 “What do you dream about?”

She turns to face me, her face luminescent in the moonlight. Her eyes glitter in the dark, sapphires burning with their own light like each was a world unto itself, the perfect black pupil a tiny earth circled by some unseen moon, absorbing and reflecting its beams into the expanse of pure blue that surrounds it.

“Uh…”

She snuggles closer to me. “Promise I won’t tell a soul,” she says. The hushed, playful tone of her voice somehow conveys a wink without her performing the action. And I would know, since I can’t look away.

“I…” I swallow, force myself to look up at the actual moon in the sky. “I don’t usually have dreams.”

She scoffs lightly. Nudges my shoulder with hers.

“That’s not what I asked.”

I feel her breath on my cheek: gentle, tinged with mint. I run my tongue over my chapped lips.

“Um…I don’t know.” I can feel her start to object so I amend my statement. “Nothing interesting, anyway.”

She sighs, but the conspiratorial grin remains. 

“What kind of dreams do you have?” I blurt before she can question me further.

Now she turns her face to the moon, hums almost inaudibly. A warm, strangely intimate rumble that registers in my chest, rolls like dark honey down my own throat. I shiver.

“The good kind. Mostly. Sometimes you’re there.”

My heart skips a beat. I try desperately to keep my breathing even.

“Am I…um…are the ones that I’m in…good ones? The dreams?”

She chuckles softly. I silently curse myself for being so motherfucking goddamn awkward, until she turns to face me and my mind goes blank. 

“Those are the best ones.”

I have to look at her now, but when I do her face is…oddly sad. She’s smiling but there’s a wistfulness to her expression that banishes the uneasy warmth I’d felt a moment before. My face creases in concern. I have the strongest urge to cup her face in my palm, to stroke her cheek in a soothing manner, tell her that whatever’s bothering her it will all be okay. The way she’s done for me countless times, both seriously and in jest. For all her whimsy and irresponsibility, she’s really quite maternal in that way; always ready to comfort, calm, talk me down. She’s always there.

I start to raise my hand towards her but my arm halts in mid-air, hovering in the little space left between us. I look at her perfect face, her perfect skin, and I can’t bring myself to touch her. My arm falls to my side.

“Um, I-”

“Hey, can I ask you something?” She interrupts, not unkindly.

“Sure,” I reply, grateful that I don’t have to conjure an ending for that sentence.

She glances off into the distance before returning to me with a look I can’t quite decipher.

“Who’s Brianna?”

Part 10

Apr. 10th, 2017 06:12 pm
haleyscomets: halley's comet (Default)
 “Argh!”

A hand flies to my face to block out the white light flooding my computer screen, blindingly bright. I fumble with the other hand to lower my brightness setting. My computer does weird stuff sometimes. 

When I can see again, I see that the whole screen has been taken over by a pop-up chat window. It looks the same as the one from the porn website, only there isn’t a picture at the top this time and instead of telling me that “Brianna is typing” the text reads “Someone is typing”. Out of habit I sit patiently waiting for whoever is on the other side of this chat to finish their thought. 

so you’ve returned

i’m glad

A noted tonal shift from our previous interaction, assuming this still is indeed Busty Brianna. I return my fingers to home row.

“Who are you?”

do you really think that is important?

you’re going to talk to me anyway

I feel myself frown, and then wonder if this person can see my expression through my webcam. I briefly consider grabbing a sticky note to cover it but decide against getting up. If they have access to our webcams they’ve seen me looking a lot worse.

“What makes you say that?”

you’re lonely

My chest twinges. Part of why I can never stay in therapy very long is because I can’t stand hearing people talk about my issues, how sad my life is. It all seems so much more pathetic in someone else’s mouth.

you clicked the link. you’re so desperate for human contact that you’d risk letting a cyber stalker into your computer

My heart pounds. What was I thinking? I can’t make my fingers move to respond.

you already know that i have access to your friends webcam. you just gave me access to yours. to your whole system. pictures, passwords, browser history… the amount of time you spend online you should really know better

I’m lightheaded. What the fuck was I thinking?

but that’s not why im here. i know about the barn incident. your roommate told me all about it. she told me you were there with her.”

At the mention of the barn, a sudden chill overtakes me. I haven’t thought about it in so long I was almost able to convince myself it wasn’t real. Like it was all just some weird fever dream.

i know what you saw and i know you’re trying to forget. your roommate brings it up and you act like you don’t hear. but i know. i appreciate the effort. and so i’m rewarding you

I shiver. My roommate’s never mentioned the barn to me, not since we drove away from it all those months ago. I’m straining to recall whether we discussed it on the ride back but the memory is escaping me. It’s all fuzzy around the edges, like it was stored improperly in my mind and started molding. 

you wont hear from me again

My arm feels wet. I have a sensation like my whole body is buzzing, the way a limb prickles when its fallen asleep. Sharply, I try to shake myself awake, and when a drop rolls off my chin I realize that tears are streaming from my eyes. I wipe at my face, smearing salty fluid all over my skin. Sitting up (had I been lying down?) I notice that the front of my shirt is soaked through, either with sweat or tears (when did I start sweating?). Something inside me feels unclean, and I get up to take a shower. Halfway to the bathroom I think to shut off my computer to save energy (had I been on the computer?) but when I return to my bedroom it’s already off.

Part 9

Apr. 9th, 2017 06:11 pm
haleyscomets: halley's comet (Default)
 “You have…three. New. Messages.”

Groggily, I sit up in bed. Judging by the dim light filtering through my curtains it’s about six o’ clock. Casting a glance over to my laptop, I wipe the drool from my mouth and stretch my arms over my head. I have my computer set up to notify me audibly when I get a new email so that I don’t miss messages from classmates or professors about assignments. I’ve already got a ton of make-up work to contend with and I don’t need that pile getting any bigger. It’s not that I’m lazy, I just have a shit attention span, and a worse memory.

I shuffle over to my desk and plop down in the old swivel chair, which creaks as I settle in. Clicking open my email reveals that only one of my new messages is school-related: one of my professors has had a death in the family and will be missing class. The other two are from an address I don’t recognize. The first subject line reads “Find Me and F#ck Me” and was sent around 3 PM, the second simply says “hello”, received about half an hour afterwards. Both appear to be spam emails so I have no idea why they ended up in my main inbox, until I look a little closer at the email address. It’s the same as the web address of that weird porn website.

Suddenly my body is covered with sweat. After I threw up earlier I’d stumbled into bed and passed out (as I tend to do after a stressful situation), and I’d completely forgotten about what I’d done this afternoon. Busty Brianna. Now it all comes rushing back. My roommate must be back from class by now, and I’m willing to bet she’s been back on that site. I wonder if she’s been contacted. If I’ve been snitched on. The muscles in my hand seize up, desperate to click on the first email, but I hesitate. I’m always so worried about getting a virus from opening spam mail and that website was so freaking weird, who’s to say clicking this won’t explode my computer? Maybe the whole site is just a phishing scam (is that what it’s called?), where they bait you into clicking weird links and unleashing malware into your system with big boobies and pretty girls? But I know that if there’s a chance I can contact whoever runs the site and stop them from letting my roommate know I snooped through her shit, I had better take it. Hell hath no fury like a doomsday prepper scorned; she could literally hold out on me for the rest of our lives. 

The first email reads like any standard porn spam so I go ahead and delete it, but the second one reads like a letter. 

“dear Friend, 

so sorry to see you go before we truly could become acquainted. please consider further interaction. i humbly leave my contacting information below. click if you will

your roommate’s girlfriend”

A bright blue hyperlink underneath the body of the email appears to be the aforementioned “contacting information”. It looks like one of those shortened URL links you see sometimes with spam advertisements. 

My brow furrows and my mind reels with this new input. This is obviously a different person than before, judging by the typing style. But they must have had access to my roommate’s webcam during my chat with “Brianna”, seeing as they are trying to bait me by pretending to be dating my roommate. I must have visibly reacted when “Brianna” told me my roommate thought I was cute. I would have had to react pretty damn hard for it to be visible via her shitty webcam, but I never have been good at hiding emotion. Or this is just a stab in the dark, whoever this is “revealing” some personal connection to pique my interest had it faded by now. To instigate “further interaction”.

I turn my head towards the door, listening. If my roommate’s back, she isn’t making it known. I’m not sure I’d want to face her so soon after trespassing anyway. I still feel too guilty, my face would give it away. 

‘Well,’ I think to myself. ‘I’ve come this far.’

I click the link.

Part 8

Apr. 8th, 2017 06:10 pm
haleyscomets: halley's comet (Default)
 “Uh…”

I don’t realize I’ve spoken aloud until the sound of my voice, loud against the silence of the apartment hits my ears. It’s like nails on a chalkboard. I’ve always avoided talking to myself because I can’t stand the way my voice sounds, and today I have a bit of a sore throat, so it’s even worse than usual. In the perfect stillness of her room it almost seems to echo, the inhuman croak of an unwelcome visitor tainting its pristine pink walls. I’m pretty sure we aren’t supposed to paint in here.

The neon green dot pulsates in my vision.

BUSTY BRIANNA WANTS TO CHAT!

Helloo? U still there?

I’m struggling to catch my breath. If this is a…someone that she’s been talking to regularly, of course she’d know about me being her roommate. That part makes sense. But how the fuck did she convince her to leave her webcam on? My roommate, the most paranoid, conspiracy theory-obsessed person this side of the X-Files? That has to be how she can tell I’m a different person, but it doesn’t make sense. My eyes dart nervously up to the small black circle above the computer screen, which is uncharacteristically unobscured. 

  “😘”

Whoever the fuck this…person is, if she is planning on chatting with her again, she’s going to tell her that I’ve been on her computer unless I stop her somehow. Which will drive her fucking nuts and I don’t need that when we just got on track to maybe making up soon. Hesitantly, I move towards the computer desk and sit back down. My hands gradually settle on the keyboard and I punch out a response.

“I’m here. Can you see me?”

I wait anxiously, wrists tense, as text reading “BUSTY BRIANNA IS TYPING…” blinks below my message.

Ur pretty ;)

Anxiety giving way to exasperation, I roll my eyes.

“How do you know? Are you looking at me now?”

BUSTY BRIANNA IS TYPING…

“ ♡ Ur as cute as ur roomie said ♡  

In spite of myself, I feel heat rising to my cheeks. My fingers stall for a moment as I fight the urge to ask what she’s said about me.

“Do you speak to her ofte-”

I press backspace to erase. Dumb question. I’m flustered and struggling to come up with something. Why am I here again?

“Who are you?”

BUSTY BRIANNA IS TYPING…

My name is Brianna :) nice to finally meet u!

I’m not getting anywhere. This situation is so weird that it’s throwing me off. What could possibly lead to my roommate chatting with “Brianna”, some stranger who may or may not be a random sex worker, who may or may not even be a real person, on a regular basis? What would even lead her to this weird, obscure-ass website? Suddenly I want nothing more than for her to get back home and stroke my hair and give me answers that make sense because I can’t think of anything and it’s starting to freak me out.

Cat got ur tounge sweetie? 🐱”

My head pounds and I feel like I’m going to throw up. The bodily impulse to keep myself from puking in someone else’s space at all costs motivates me enough to exit out of the website, delete my visit from the browser history and return the computer to its lock screen before bolting from the room. As I dry heave over the toilet, her face swims in front of my eyes. She told her I was cute.

I end up with vomit all over my hair.

Part 7

Apr. 7th, 2017 06:09 pm
haleyscomets: halley's comet (Default)
 “BIG TITTIE SLUTS WISH TO CHAT!!!”

I blink several times rapidly. 

“CLICK HERE TO SEE WHOSE HORNY IN YOUR AREA”

Poorly edited pictures of large-breasted, heavily made-up women in different stages of undress fill the screen. Pop-ups advertising “HOT N HORNY LADIES”, etc., in neon fonts flash at me from the perimeter.  

“SEXXXY ASIAN SINGLES NEAR YOU”

I stare at the computer in disbelief. A porn website? Not that she doesn’t watch porn; she definitely does (it isn’t a topic of discussion with us, but I’m a healthy red-blooded American woman who knows what jacking off sounds like and we do share an apartment), but it just feels…strange for this to be her most visited website. Like, above Instagram. And the address is so bizarrely nonsexual, corporate really, sounding more like a site you’d go to to get investment banking tips than something you’d click on when your dick’s hard. Almost like they didn’t want anyone to know it had porn on it, but wouldn’t that be counterproductive? Maybe this is some tech-savvy, high-powered businessman’s weird fetish project, a secret titty trove he can dip into while at work without resulting in any suspicious browser history. But if this was a personal site, then why have the ads? Maybe that’s part of the fantasy.

“FUCK DESPERATE OLDER WOMEN NOW”

I open the drop-down “MENU” at the top of the screen and scroll through a list of what sounds like titles of different new age self-help books (”Live Your Fullest, Brightest Life”, “Discover Your Destiny Spirit”…I nearly click on “Unleash the Goddess That Slumbers Within” but stop myself”), until I reach a link titled “In Memoriam”. 

Intrigued, I click on it.

Rather than taking me to a new page, the website appears to refresh itself and load the homepage again, but with different ads. I am about to click the link again to make sure this wasn’t a glitch, when a new, larger pop-up fills the top-left portion of the screen, blocking the menu. 

“BUSTY BRIANNA WANTS TO CHAT!” 

This pop-up appears to be some kind of instant messaging interface. Displayed at the top of the window is a photo of a blonde, conventionally attractive young woman whose low-cut top and large breasts are featured prominently by the framing of the image. Under the picture a green dot next to the word “Online!” in bold letters flashes on and off. At the bottom of the pop-up there is a text box for me to type in, encouraging me to “Say hi!”.

Before I can type anything, a ping goes off and a message appears in the chat.

Hey, cutie! ;) Where’s ur roommate?

Part 6

Apr. 6th, 2017 06:08 pm
haleyscomets: halley's comet (Default)
 “Please, Luke, please, please, please,”

Oh, Lorelai. 

I’d always though of myself as the Rory to her Lorelai. She’s vivacious, witty, full of life. And I’m the one that keeps her in line. At least for the first few seasons.

We haven’t officially “made up” yet, but she’s stopped huffing every time I enter a room, which bodes well. I feel a slight compulsion to apologize but I stifle it with the knowledge that I am absolutely in the right (my status as Rory means that I know best, of course). Her keeping tabs on her ex can bring nothing but pain. He was an asshole to her and it ended poorly. Besides, he was a shitty kisser.

I wasn’t sure if it was my paranoia or just good-old-fashioned nosiness that compelled me to pause Gilmore Girls to check her internet history one afternoon while she was in class, but looking back now I wonder if it wasn’t some manifestation of fate. Destiny. Or perhaps some kind of otherworldly sentient being wearing “fate” as its moniker. 

There were only a few pages in her history from today, but I could see that one of them she had visited several times each day going back about a week. A web address I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t uncommon for her to spend time trolling the deep web in the middle of the night, usually in a Red Bull-fueled fervor after watching a series of conspiracy videos on YouTube, but it was strange for her to return to any particular website once she’s come to her senses. Especially more than once. 

I clicked on the link and the screen went black. 

Part 5

Apr. 5th, 2017 06:07 pm
haleyscomets: halley's comet (Default)
 “You wanna get Chinese tonight?”

Several months after the “barn incident”, as we’re calling it (well actually I just call it that in my head, we haven’t talked about it), we’re rooming together in a moderately-priced apartment in a decent neighborhood near our college campus. Originally she was going to stay with her boyfriend, but they broke up at the end of that summer. She’d called me in the middle of the night, in tears, and despite having an early shift the next morning I’d spent two hours consoling her, reestablishing her self-esteem, and reluctantly but emphatically convincing her not to break into his car and smear dog shit all over the dashboard or commit any similar crimes of passion. I was a little nervous because we’d never shared a room before, but she’s tidier than I’d imagined and always replaces the toilet paper, which is really all I ask. Neither of us cook – between school and working part time we don’t really get the chance– so we order out just about every night. 

“Fine with me.”

I’m working on getting rid of the dirty dishes in the sink before we add more to the pile. I fucking hate doing dishes so I insist upon wearing these elbow-length purple rubber gloves with elephant faces on them that I found in the “lifestyle” section in Wassermann’s, which I am mercilessly mocked for, but they keep my skin dry. The water is so hot I almost can’t feel it. The television blares “The Big Bang Theory” which I cannot stand but she finds compelling. Every time she watches she tries to convince me there’s some kind of coded message hidden in the laugh track but I think it’s wishful thinking.

I’m discovering that the sounds of canned laughter and rushing water combined give me a weird tingly sensation in the back of my brain when I’m startled by a sharp intake of breath and the clatter of a phone hitting the floor.

“Oh my god,”

“What, what, did something happen?”

Alarmed, I waddle over into the living room with the gloves still on my hands, holding them out to avoid dripping on myself.

“I-I fucking-”

She takes a shaky breath to steady herself before turning to me with panic in her eyes.

“I swear to god I am not fucking with you.”

“What?”

“Ughhh, you’re not gonna believe me.”

Her fear seems to dissipate as she deflates in defeat, burying her face in her hands with a sigh that ends in a sob.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Ugh! …Okay, so I was on Snapchat just now, and there was this fucking guy, and-”

“What? When were you on Snapchat, I thought you were ordering the food?”

“Okay, I was about to, alright, but I saw that Jason posted a story and-”

I straighten, looking down at her through narrowed eyes.

“Wait, are you fucking serious? Jason? Why are you still looking at his Snaps?”

“Ughhhh oh my god, can we please not-”

“I told you this isn’t healthy! You can’t cyber-stalk your exes and remain a normal person! It does shit to you. And you know I know from experience.”

“Okay, but it isn’t the same, we didn’t have a messy breakup, he said we could be friends-”

“Are you kidding me?! He broke up with you over text.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t messy, it was like, detached and stuff. Emotionless.”

“Uh, it wasn’t emotionless for you. You called me sobbing-”

“Okay, I was a mess but it wasn’t a mess and I’m pretty much over him anyway and I just check in to see if he’s doing okay I’m not stalking him like, fuck, why am I not allowed to watch someone’s Snap stories?! Who am I hurting?!”

“You’re hurting yourself-”

“Well I feel fine!”

This she yells, finally standing up for herself after being on the defensive. Glaring at me, she swipes her phone up from the floor and aggressively punches in her lock code. 

“Fuck it, I don’t need this.”

She stands and stomps off to her room leaving the TV on, which she knows I hate. I’m left standing in the middle of the living room, dripping into the carpet. My arms now stiff from holding them in front of me. I feel ridiculous and I let them fall to my sides, water immediately seeping through my jeans to my skin. I can’t turn the TV off because of the gloves, so I shuffle back to the sink to the sound of a live studio audience losing their minds.

Part 4

Apr. 4th, 2017 06:06 pm
haleyscomets: halley's comet (Default)
 “Hello?”

Her voice sounds meeker than it ever has, and I almost wonder if it really was her voice, or something I’d imagined. The place is silent. We two stand at the barn’s double doors, she holding one door slightly ajar, peering inside. I stand behind her barely resisting the urge to grab onto her (a hip, an elbow, something) in order to brace myself. My head has cleared somewhat in the space between here and the truck, but I still feel nauseous. 

The barn is pitch black. I have no idea why it’s so goddamn dark inside in the daytime, but I can’t see a thing. It’s like looking into an endless hole. The air is thick with some kind of tension, stale-smelling in a way I’ve never experienced before. It’s the smell of the dead without the decay, nothing like a stinking or a rotting, just the old, musty scent of something that ceased to exist. For what feels like forever but was probably forty-five seconds we just stand there, as if paralyzed. I gradually fixate on the back of her head so I don’t have to gape at the darkness with her, distracting my mind from constructing images of the horrors that surely lay just out of sight. I find myself wishing we’d just move forward already, and a voice inside urges me to act, nudge her to feel for a light switch or something, but my body doesn’t move. I hear her start to open her mouth to speak, when she’s interrupted by what sounds like a man’s voice coming from the center of the room.

“Mmmphh.”

It’s a soft, deep noise, like a sigh or a moan, the kind of noise someone would make while having their shoulders rubbed after a particularly stressful week. We both jump as if we’d been shouted at, though neither of us make any sound. Restraint flees my body like a bolt of lightning and I’m clutching both her arms for dear life. 

Then the air is very still. Both of us frozen in place, waiting for something to happen that never comes. After another long pause I feel the arms in my grip start to relax, then steel themselves. 

“Hello?”

Her voice is firmer now, only a slight tremble at the end. A hint of impatience. It’s the kind of voice she uses when she’s freaked out of her mind about one of the horror movies I make her watch (I honestly don’t even like gore, I just pretend I do to indulge in this very reaction), shielding her eyes with her palms, laying on the couch in the fetal position, simultaneously trying to recover from this new mental trauma and deciding that she’s finally had enough, and she’s telling me how fucked up I am for liking this stuff and that she’s never ever coming over again and never speaking to me or texting me or letting me borrow her clothes (which I never do, but I like having the option) and what kind of crazy asshole am I that I can watch someone get disemboweled with their own spine and still be hungry for popcorn.

Or maybe its nothing like that voice and I’m just projecting.

In any case, no response comes to her and I realize that I have to pee and don’t have time for this, so before she can react, I back out of the doorway and yank the other barn door open, exposing the room to the broken sunlight making it’s way through the clouds. 

The barn is empty.

Part 3

Apr. 3rd, 2017 06:05 pm
haleyscomets: halley's comet (Default)
 “Oh shit, there it is!”

I feel a lurch and the truck takes a sharp turn. Looking up from my lap I see us pulling up to a dilapidated-looking barn – really a glorified shack – in the middle of a long-abandoned cornfield. Most of the plants here are crunchy and brown, more husks than plants; only a few stubborn weeds hanging on around the barn’s edges, clinging to the only shade in the area, look remotely alive. The faded, rust-red wood of the building burns like a pale flame against a cold grey sky. It’s gotten cloudier since we left. A crow caws in the distance.

We sit in silence for a moment after we’ve parked on the gravel walkway.

Finally she turns to face me from the driver’s seat, a look of apprehension on her face.

“So…”

She hesitates. I can tell she’s trying to test the waters, see if I’ll react the way she thinks I’ll react.

I surprise even myself by turning to her and smiling.

“Well. What are we waiting for?”

My body finally reacts at these words. My head starts to swim. My heart is pounding. I feel lightheaded and I’m sure my vision is blurring. Nope — yeah, definitely blurring. I feel myself starting to slide down the seat, but force myself to remain rigid. Hold my smile. I can barely make out her response.

“!!”

Part 2

Apr. 2nd, 2017 06:04 pm
haleyscomets: halley's comet (Default)
 “We’re almost there!”

There’s that grin again, like an alley cat that's finally caught sight of its prey. 

(The quickly fading sunlight glints off her smiling cheeks like a roving spotlight, like a camera flash, making her face dazzle for one brief moment.)

I’m seeing spots. 

“Good,” I manage to choke out.

A worried glance in my direction, then her eyes snap back to the road.

“You okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine.”

Except my mind is whirling and I can’t feel my nose and there’s a splitting pain in the center of my forehead that makes me wanna puke —

A quiet sigh. And now a hand on my shoulder.

“You know, we don’t have to do this. If it’s too much for you. I don’t want to do anything that’s going to get you hurt.”

This last bit pierces me, but she doesn’t need to know how deep. It isn’t her fault. She doesn’t have anything to do with any of this. And she is trying. So I’m going to try for her.

I sit up a little, making sure to catch her eye, and give her a smile as sincere as I can muster. 

“I’m fine. I promise. Great, even. Glad we’re finally getting to the bottom of all this.”

She smiles back, relieved (easily placated, typical), and the hand still on my shoulder gives a little squeeze.

“You are great.”

With her face relaxed like this, no wolfish grin, no brow furrowed in concern, I am reminded of how beautiful she is. Like, objectively, undeniably beautiful. The dying light is in front of us now, and her features are softened by it’s warm glow. Enveloped in a golden haze. The tender note in her voice finally reaches my ears and I feel myself blush.

(A soft breeze like the rustle of an angel’s wings slips in through the cracked window, overtakes me. Smells of lavender.)

It’s not until I manage to pry my eyes away that I realize my headache is gone.

Part 1

Apr. 1st, 2017 06:03 pm
haleyscomets: halley's comet (Default)
 “I just don’t understand why it’s such a big deal.”

She says this while rolling her huge blue eyes into the back of her head, honestly so damn far that I’m afraid for a moment that she’ll swerve and run us off the road.

(It’s hard to miss the gorgeous way her eyelashes flutter as she does this, framing those eyes like twin sets of plush black butterflies flitting around a lurid crystal pool…surely she must know about that?)

It takes me a moment to formulate a response. Of course she wouldn’t understand. How could she? It had nothing to do with her and never would. I’m sincerely frustrated - nearly angry - for a second, before I recognize the desire to make her understand is a fruitless one. I sigh and drop my shoulders, resignation now replacing the dead objection on my lips.

“Fine. You know what? Let’s just go where you wanna go then. It’s fine-”

I cut her off as she starts to open her mouth, eyebrows raised at my sudden compliance. 

“Really.”

She shakes her head at this, scoffing incredulously but unable to hide a grin. 

(Feigning surprise but smirking like a spoiled child who’s conned her way into extra dessert.)

“As you wish.”

haleyscomets: halley's comet (Default)
Last year (currently writing this in 2018) I did a kind of fun thing where I tried to stream of consciousness write a "chapter" of a short story at least once a week for as long as I could. I only made it to fourteen entries, but I had a good time, and felt like preserving them here. It's fun reading your old stuff.

It started off as me trying to write something vaguely like a creepypasta (which I was very into at the time), and dissolved into a weird domestic thing with an omniscient porn virus ghost stalking the protagonist? I couldn't figure out where to go from there so I quit.

I think I'd like to try that again this year, might wait till the semester's over. We'll see.

Anyway, I didn't think I could put that stuff on my blog without some kind of explanation, so...there that is.

If anyone besides me happens to be reading this: enjoy!

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