What's That Smell?

Boo. Gotcha, didn't I? Don't be scared, I'm harmless. Shh. Don't tell anyone.

They say things.

 

"You're doing good work and you'll be rewarded, soon."

 

I look back, just a month ago, and I wonder why things had to change.  I've asked, but they never answer me.  Not about that.  I guess I'm not meant to know.

 

I was sitting in my apartment.  A humble, one bedroom off Main.  Every city in America has a Main street, somewhere in the middle of town.  Not Phoenix.  Phoenix has a Central, but Main street doesn't run through the middle of town.

 

"You're wandering, again."

 

Oh, right.  Anyway, there I was, sitting in my living room, slash, dining room, slash, office eating a pot pie that I'd cooked a little too long in the oven.  I like the crust really crispy.  I had just gotten home from my old nine-to-fiver (I worked at a bank verifying loan applications and entering them into the computer) and was all set for an evening of television when I noticed something floating in the air in front of me.  It looked like steam from my pot pie.

 

"It wasn't steam."

 

I'm getting to that.  So, I noticed the light playing across this wisp of, um, whatever and got this feeling.  You know, when you just get out of the shower and your hairs are all standing on end and a little breeze blows through and tickles them all and your shoulders do that shivery wiggle.  That feeling.

 

I read somewhere that just about anything can push a man over the edge.  A guy may not even realize that he's standing on the brink of insanity when something gives him a tiny nudge and he falls.  Some guys are lucky and they don't quite fall off.  Other guys fall but hit a branch or a root or something like that.  I've seen that in movies.  It's pretty cool.

 

"Wandering..."

 

Oh, crap, sorry.  So, there's this vaporous thing, just hanging there in the air, right in front of me and my pot pie.  That's when I noticed the smell.  I made the mistake of speaking out loud.

 

"What's that smell?" I said, just like that.

 

"Us." They said, just like that.

 

They haven't stopped talking since.

 

"We have so many plans.  So many things that need doing.  You've done so well."

 

Yeah, well, I also haven't stopped running.  The stuff they want done, it's not quite, uh, acceptable.  There's a lot of blood and some scary kind of...

 

"You aren't supposed to tell anyone."

 

Yeah, that's a problem, isn't it?  Now that you've read this, they'll ask me to find you.  Of course, they already know where you are, they planned this.  I guess I'll see you soon.

Reviews

[Mark D. Chevalier]

WOW! Tell me there's a protagonist behind the crimson curtain, but thou shall not show it to me. I loved it! It flowed very well, and the tension escalated nicely. You built a vivid picture of the scene, and captured my attention right from the start. I thank you for sharing this peek into your imagination!
M

This is good! I like the discription of the pot pie! I think the idea the way you ended the story. It's like you could go on and write another! Great story!