I pulled into my usual parking spot behind the Book Nook where I work, and snatched up my backpack off the floor before I slammed the stubborn car door behind me.
"Hey Krista, how are you doing this morning?" Joan, my boss, asked as I re-locked the staff door behind me.
"Good Joan, how about you?"
"Not bad. This past weekend's sales were fantastic, which means I can now afford our extravagant end of summer employee bash I have planned."
"You mean for all three of us?" I joked, opening up a box of books the UPS guy had delivered while I was off over the weekend.
"He-he, yeah and that's if Martha feels like going out after her normal six o'clock bedtime," Joan added laughingly, referring to the elderly woman who worked part-time on the weekend shifts with Joan.
Martha was by far one of the most colorful people I had ever met, displaying a kind word for some, but having a bite to her for others, like her daughter for example. At seventy two years old, she only worked to get out of the house and away from her "crazy daughter"- her words not mine- that liked to drag her out for weekend excursions.
"I'm seventy two. I've seen all the flea markets, garage sales, and overpriced shopping malls I want. I would rather spend my weekends surrounded by what I love the most," she had told me when I first met her, indicating the books around her.
"Yeah, our big bash tonight will have to be the early bird special," I teased, breaking down the box I had just emptied.
I tossed the flattened box aside and reached for the second box of books. I worked the edge of my thumbnail under the tape and grasped the lose piece I had worked away from the cardboard, pulling the rest of the tape off the top of the box. Joan preferred the boxes to be opened without a sharp box cutter and I completely agreed with her. The thought of accidently cutting into the beautiful spine of a brand new book made me just a little bit nauseous.
I pulled the flaps of the box apart and sighed with pleasure when I saw the newest book by my most favorite author. I gently extracted one and gasped with pleasure at the lovely cover. I had already seen the picture on-line, but it just did not give the cover its due justice. Not being able to resist, I opened the book turning to the first page.
"No way," Joan said, snatching the book out of my hands. "You know the rules. You can't start it without me," she said, lightly placing two of the books on her desk.
"Aw man, no fair. You know you wouldn't even be reading this series if I hadn't pointed it out," I said, pretending to pout. In all honesty, I was completely psyched that she enjoyed the same books as me. Discussing the books and the characters in them had become a welcome distraction for me on the days I work, and I love when we playfully argue over who we thought was "crush worthy." I had chosen not to tell Joan anything about Mark, and I found it oddly refreshing to be around someone who just thought I was a regular teenager and not someone who had lost her very purpose in life. Pretending to crush on a hottie from a fiction book was a welcome distraction, though no matter how the author described the characters attributes, in my mind's eye, it was always Mark's face I saw.
"Rules are rules," she said playfully as she punched the code into the mini-refrigerator sized safe that sat on the floor.
She pulled the heavy metal door open, extracting the cash till for the register. "I'm going to go boot up the register and start the coffee maker. Do you need help with that?" she asked, indicating the last box of books on the floor.
"Nah, I got it. You know me, I like to ogle at the covers before I place them in their new home," I said, docking my iPod onto the radio Joan kept in the stockroom.
Joan smiled at me and headed out the door as the new Katy Perry song blared out of the mini speakers. Keeping music on when others were not around to distract me was a definite must.
Bopping a bit to the music, I picked up the last heavy box of books off the floor and unpacked them onto the book cart with the others, sorting them by genres as I worked. When I started in June, Joan had allowed me to organize the books in the store in a more manageable system. It was a monster task, putting every book in appropriate genre sections, versus the standard alphabetical system Joan had used for years. All the hard work was well worth it though. Now when a customer has a specific book in mind, but can't remember the author or title, I can help without losing my mind.
I finished unpacking the last book when my current favorite song started playing on my iPod. It was an older song that I had discovered by chance shortly after Mark left, and it was as if the singer knew every emotion I was feeling. I cranked up the volume and sank into the chair at the desk as the music filled my head. I knew I was a glutton for punishment for even listening to a country song about lost love, but I couldn't seem to help myself, something about the lyrics spoke to my now empty soul.
Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to summon up Mark's image. I had once heard that when a person lost a loved one that they would often have difficulty recalling what they looked like as their mind began to distance itself. For me, it was the exact opposite. On the rare moments like these when I would allow myself to indulge in thinking about him, his image was so vibrant and strong, it was as if he was standing directly in front of me. I could see every hair on his head that I loved to run my fingers through, the sexy grin that melted me from the inside-out, and the sparkle in his eyes that made my whole body hum. It was on these occasions that a small ounce of hope would creep in. Surely, somewhere inside him, some of these same feelings for me still remained—or maybe I was wishing for the impossible.
er 1
The darkness that surrounded me was as oppressive as ever. I could feel it seeping into my every pore, growing heavier and thicker with each passing moment. I was too scared to move, afraid I would run into some kind of obstacle, or worse yet, step off into some unseen void. I clamped my eyes tightly closed and rubbed them with my knuckles, trying to decipher any kind of light or outline, but it was no use. The blackness continued its unforgiving assault on my senses, making me shrink in the vast nothingness. The hair on the back of my arms stood on end as a cold bead of sweat trickled its way from the nape of my neck all the way down my spine. Suddenly, I had the feeling there was someone—or—something in this dark cavern with me. Maybe it was just my own paranoia...this kind of pitch black really screws with your head.
"Who-o-o's th-there?" I finally stuttered out in a near whisper.
I jumped at an abrupt onslaught of noises coming at me from multiple directions. My mouth opened to scream, but no sound escaped as fear tightened its grip around my throat. I was completely disoriented from the darkness and became lightheaded as I spun around trying to protect myself from a possible attack from behind. As I stood in place, trying to regain some kind of control, I suddenly realized that the noise was merely an echo from my own voice.
Relief flowed through me, as I worked to slow my breathing and calm my heart that was beating like a race horse in my chest.
Cautiously, I placed my right foot in front of me while I kept the majority of weight on my back leg in case I encountered air instead of solid footing. My relief grew as my foot hit solid ground. I raised my left foot to take another tentative step, using my outstretched hands as a guide. Before I could complete my forward motion, I heard a soft sinister chuckle close to my ear. Pulling back quickly, I stumbled in my haste to distance myself from whoever was lurking in the darkness. My feet tangled together making me land in heap on the hard ground.
I wrapped my arms around myself, cowering in fear as the single chuckle turned into multiple laughs from every direction. Choking on my fear, I tried to scoot away from the laughter by sliding across the surface on my bottom. The noise bounced off the unseen walls of the space I was in, closing in on me from every direction. I gasped in terror as a cold dead hand grabbed my arm.
"No-o-o!"
I woke choking on a scream that never seemed to find the power to leave my throat in the dream. After having the same nightmare for the last eight weeks, you would think I would lose the panic that gripped me each and every night, but instead it only seemed to multiply over the last few weeks.
Sitting up on my bed, I scrutinized my room, using the pale dawn light streaming through the windows to make sure I was indeed alone. Every morning, I awoke scared that the Daemons from my dreams had followed me into reality.