Some background on this story: The Mixer Harbor stories all revolve largely around a place called Mixer Harbor. It's a small, quiet, college town somewhere on the North East Coast of the United States. The people in the stories are Chris Andrews (of whom the stories are generally told in perspective of), Travis Bradey, and Mars Maddock.
In this story, we get a small taste of what Mixer Harbor is generally like. This is part one of a coming series for this story.
----------------
The Room at Midnight .1
Mars stabbed irritably at his food with his fork, however, eyes dark and mulish. Christopher regarded this with forced lightheartedness.
"What's the matter? Did a ravioli kill your dog and rape you?" Mars, with unaccustomed ill humor, simply glanced up from under his eyelashes at his friend before resuming the steady mutilation of his plate. After some random jabs and uncoordinated cuts, he jerked his chin at the table behind Chris.
"Those people." He said finally, voice low. "At the table behind you. They're bothering me. They've been there a while, and they're just staring."
It was nearly midnight on campus. The little library eatery was empty except the random passerby, but Christopher turned in good faith, knowing he wouldn't be able to see the people behind him.
The table was empty.
Christopher turned slowly back around, his hair standing abruptly on end. It wasn't the sensation he got when the room was occupied with things other than the warm, breathing, live bodies, though. He didn't even feel the least bit of unexplainable apprehension or anxiety.
"Mars, there's no-one there."
Mars finally forked some of the cold ravioli into his mouth and chewed, his expression irascible.
"Of course there is." He said, now with a slight, tired, exasperated twitch to his tone.
"No, Mars." Christopher slowly corrected him. He glanced back behind him, at the empty table, and felt a prickle of fear that wasn't related entirely to the ghosts. "There's no-one there. What do you see?"
"Never mind." Mars responded, an irritated twinge in his brisk tone, sat up straighter and started to eat his food quickly, until his cheeks bulged and he had to drink to wash down the food. Christopher, to keep up, ate more quickly, but still poked around a bit more, now the contemplative one.
Mars, of course, was finished before his friend, and sat back in his chair, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin from the dispenser. "Just about finished?" He asked. Christopher let his fork fall back to his unfinished plate. The strange incident had made him largely lose his appetite.
"Yeah, I'm through." They stood, and Mars courteously allowed Christopher to precede him to the trash cans at the edge of the room. Slightly beyond the eatery was a computer lab, locked and darkened for the night. As Christopher disposed of his paper plate, he habitually looked up to the room, and caught the reflection of the room behind him.
The off white tile stretched behind them, and the edge of one of the cafe tables. Mars was standing almost directly behind him while he stooped to dispose of his plate, and his posture was the upright, stiff manner he normally conducted himself with.
Directly behind Mars, a filthy girl stood, with bare feet, ragged hair, and wide, staring eyes that stood out from her face. One of her hands was clasping Mars' coat pocket.
Immediately, Chris felt his skin raise in a chill, and his breath catch in his chest. He turned around automatically, involuntarily to look at what he was sure hadn't been there a moment ago.
Empty.
Behind Mars, the cozy little cafe stretched silent and bare.
Mars, watching him with a strange, intense expression murmured softly.
"Something wrong?" His dark eyes seemed to glimmer oddly in the muted light. His expression was a little unkind, nearly voyeuristic, with a small tilt that suggested a smile to his lips.
Christopher hurriedly turned back to the trash and dumped his plate, carefully not to look at the glass door, and stepped out of the way.
"No." He muttered, wiping his hands on his hips and looking fixedly at the tiles. "Nothing at all."
No comments:
Post a Comment