The ins and outs of a young library media specialist's life. Rock, rock on.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

The Mysterious Disappearance of C

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One drizzly autumn day Chris was taking a leisurely stroll down the Arlington bike path, very much enjoying the sight of the brightly colored trees contrasted against the gray New England sky. Suddenly, he heard a distinct rustling to his right and out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a disembodied hand scramble into a pile of dead, dry leaves. But when he whipped his head to get a better view there was nothing there.

"That's odd," Chris muttered, but continued walking.

As he traveled he was sure he heard scratching, dragging noises behind him. They sounded very close, but each time he looked back the bike path was empty. Empty. Well that was strange- the bike path was usually clogged up with joggers, cyclists, and pregnant Cambridge ladies pushing strollers of triplets.

Chris shrugged to himself, pretending not to notice, but quickened his pace. Despite the chill in the air and the impending darkness, a thin sheen of sweat had broken out, goosebumps rising up on his neck. The scratching sounds were definitely getting closer and he was certain he had just heard a moan. The path also looked strangely unfamiliar, as if he had never seen this section before, yet he knew he could not be far from home.

That was it. Chris had had enough. Without looking back, he broke into a sprint towards home. After running till he had a cramp in his side big enough to stun an elephant he slowed and finally stopped. He leaned over, hands on his knees, panting. It was then that he felt it.

A half-rotted hand, christened with numerous corroded silver rings and pentacle tattoos, seized Chris's ankle and pulled with the strength of a man who had just drank 12 Starbucks coffees. Horrified, Chris yelled for help and wrenched his leg this way and that, hoping to break free. It was no use; the hand dragged him closer and closer to the edge of the path, towards the giant pile of leaves that had followed behind him. Suddenly a surly voice sounded next to his ear: "You city kids think there's nothing better than big chain coffee places, do you?"

Despite his terror, Chris couldn't help but utter a confused, "Huh?".

"That's right. Think I don't remember you? You were the guy that wouldn't sign our petition. Closed down the Someday Cafe, you did. Perfectly good local-owned coffee shop- so what if the couches had mold and the homeless slept in the corner and it smelled like pee? Make more room for a Dunkin' Donuts, I suppose! You'd LIKE that, wouldn't you?!"

Still struggling, Chris squeezed out the words. "That wasn't me! That was my girlfriend! She just... she just really likes Dunkin' Donuts!"

"Well then lucky us... we'll just take the both of you!" With a roar of soul-crushing anguish and rage, the hand (and voice) made one final tug and Chris was sucked down into a leafy grave.

So goes the tale of the Mysterious Disappearance of C.

Gotcha! Chris wasn't taken by leafy Someday Cafe zombies at all; he's off at training in Arizona this week, and semi-incommunicado, at that. Had you going, though, didn't I?

*Thanks to this dude for his art work- it at least made me crack a grin today.


Anonymous Lex rocks hardcore!

Fabulous Halloween horror story!! You are messed up though you do know that right??

3:01 PM

Blogger NancyPearlWannabe rocks hardcore!

I guess a little messed up. But who isn't?

8:43 AM


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