“Stupid, Stupid Bird!” I throw the pillow at the music-box I use as an alarm..the pillow bumped the side of the box, pushing it down..the lady in the ballet dress was shocked and expressed it by spinning faster..faster..louder…louder
The loud boom rattled the glasses and the little glass of wine whimpered as a scarlet shade of lightning tore another heavy cloud apart. The lights flickered. Groaning, I got up to look for my candles and matches. I wans’t especially eager to spend this evening alone, espeically after that wierd, diastrous date. I hadn’t even got out of my evening dress, and the crumpled maroon skirt kept catching my foot as I tried to reach for the lights.
I had always taken refuge in my closet, it seemed comforting, and familiar. I stifled a scream as a furry sensation passed up my leg. The shadow outside the door and the gentle humming seemed to be coming closer. I grabbed a spare pillow for defence and on second thought removed my inch and a half spiky shoes from its prime position. The humming came closer as I stepped deeper into the closet.
“Oh! Crap!! There they go” talking to myself I lit the candles and placed them around the room. It looked as if I was going to get proposed to or was going to hail spirits using an ouija board. I moved a few candles to the window, when I first felt the cold, damp draft and saw the shadow sprinting. “The candles must be playing with my mind” I went around to arrange a few more and grab my glass of wine, when I heard the door slam upstairs. I dropped the glass, spilling the wine as my mind started shutting down and my voice caught in my throat. Grabbing the torch, I started up, when the skirt caught in my foot again, tripping me. My hands clammy, my throat parched and my temple throbbing, I make my way upstairs and into my bedroom. I see the shadow again and hear the slow humming of a Simon Garfunkel song..I shut the closet door gently from inside and hold my breath.
It was a bright and sunny day after a dark and stormy night, and the scent of murder was in the air…The heels lay on the carpeted stairs, the bloody stains from the spikes had seeped through the carpet and dried matting the fiber. The humming of the song in a different pitch was carried by the zephyr through the open window as the maroon skirt swished and sashayed over the delicate ankle. The music box still singing its tilting melody was shut, as I tripped yet again as I stepped over and walked down the stairs
The prompt was “It was a bright and sunny day after a dark and stormy night, and the scent of murder was in the air…” I kind of used Jhughes last post about the Caged Bird Sings and flipped it around.