Alex jerked awake, pouring sweat, her heart pounding. Brief but vivid images ran through her head: an old ship, rain pounding on the deck, lightning striking, wood splitting, a male voice screaming, and then silence except for the thunder.
She couldn't go back to sleep; she didn't even consider trying. She rolled out of bed and looked out the window. It was still dark, 1:00 a.m. according to the clock on her dresser. She racked her brain for something to do, something that would be open at this time. She settled on the bar down the street and pulled on some clothes, grateful that the smell of ocean was finally fading off them. She locked her door behind her and set off down the hall, carefully avoiding all other tenants.
"What the hell?" Alex eyed the chicken on the sidewalk in front of her; it stared back.
Just when she thought this town couldn't get any stranger, a chicken shows up. A chicken that was staring. Its little, beady eyes seemed to be mocking her. The more she stared back, the more the chicken seemed to make fun of her. It joked about her appearance, her fears, her past, her loneliness. Her whole life was being made fun of by a chicken.
"FUCK OFF!" Alex yelled and stomped her feet, forcing the tears away.
The chicken backed up a little, but kept staring. Another chicken showed up and stared at Alex too. Now it was her turn to back up. She had to be crazy; thinking a chicken was mocking her. She had to be going insane. She blamed the town. This strange town was forcing her into insanity.
She walked around the chickens, far around, and heading into the bar. She sat by herself and ordered a rum and coke. And then, once she had finished her first one, she ordered another. And by the time the guy down the bar asked to buy her a drink, she was too tipsy to say no. She wouldn't remember this night: the dream, the chickens, or the nice guy at the bar. That was the point, really. She didn't want to remember anything. And by the time she stumbled back into her apartment early that morning, she had already forgotten.
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6. Alex - I see her sitting alone in Jorri Rae's, eating waffles and reading a book. When she glances up to look out the window, her hair reveals her face. She doesn't see me. Then she turns to the book again, hunching her shoulders over it like someone's going to take it. Her hair is like a curtain.
ReplyDeleteSomeone was pulling me up by my underarms. "Come on!" Alex screamed in my ear. It was just the the sound of breaking glass that made her voice sound so far away. She hoisted me up and slung my arm over her shoulders. I told her she was strong, but I don't think she heard me because she didn't say anything, just hauled me away one step at a time.
ReplyDelete"I told you it was coming!" a man streaked by screaming. He looked right at me. "Didn't I tell you?" I nodded, but I had no idea who he was or what he'd told me, if he'd told me anything at all. Something wet and warm was dripping down my neck. I could feel it slipping down into the collar of my shirt.
"Come on," Alex said again and I tried to help her help me.
And then suddenly, we were in the middle of a street - some street that no longer resembled a street - and every one was moving by so fast except for three people standing facing each other. In the light from the burning piece of wood one of them held, I could see their faces. Mr. Day held the torch. He was screaming words and thrusting at Ethan with the fire. Ethan stood in front of him, flinching a little each time the flame came closer to his skin. Beside Ethan, standing like she was all alone in the world, was that repair woman Ethan had told me not to trust, Edna. She looked up at me and then at Ethan. Her lips moved, but I couldn't hear her.
I joined the crowd watching them bring her body out of the burnt library, the library that I never visited. I told Alex not to look and I thought to myself don't look don't look, but I looked. We both looked. I held Alex's hand because she let me and we watched the last bits of smoke rise from the library and into the sky.
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