The Marionette

The evening wind blew gently through the curtains making them dance slowly. The sound of cars passing through cancels out the white noise of silence in her one bedroom apartment. The apartment is in the depths of downtown Dallas’ west end, a large shopping attraction, lays vacant except for Jessica sitting on a beige ottoman in front of a half opened window. She stares aimlessly as the whispers of the wind sing a depressing song of ghost throughout her soul.

    The television quietly illuminates the sectional made of a mixture of brown fabric and mocha leather, a gift from Phil as he gave to her when he leased their new apartment sits empty. The bottles of beer crowd the small glass end table next to her. Each emptied without a single drop left.

    The walls are covered in memories portrayed as pictures from the last three years they were together. Pictures of family outing with his parent, his graduation picture from South Grand Prairie High, and The picture they had of them at the beach in Acapulco. All are now ghosts left to haunt her in her deepen despair.

    The wooden bookshelf, next to front door, is filled with books that they read together on stormy nights. Some that he did not get a chance to open, as they stood there with no creases and not imperfections. Inside the book shelf was a missing area where a frame once stood.

    The unopened moving boxes stood in piles near the closet to the left of her and bags of cloths draped over the chairs in the dining room to her right. The area is only torture for her but, she cannot leave their house.

    Her arms crossed pressing tightly a silver framed photograph of her fiancé into her chest. Her hair, covering face, reveals her eyes red and throbbing from the tears she cried all through the day. They stopped but, the pain in her stomach stays and festers inside her. A clear liquid flows from her nose and she raises her arm to wipe it quickly.

    The empty feeling of the loss of Phil overcomes her and she tears up again. Jessica bows her head and tucks it in her arms with the picture. She weeps softly as she rocks back and forth on her ottoman. The springs crack and pop as her body tenderly swaying slowly while she morns in silence.

    The back door opens and the squeaking sound from the hinges start to yell. The door stops and a hand slowly stretch from the outside to grasp the door frame. A shadow of a figure appears blackening the white painted wall. The shadow floats through the dark kitchen in a fluid rhythm.

    The kitchen had some light, mostly from the outside the mini-blinds just above the sink. Below the blinds a small pile of dishes gathers there from an earlier dinner with two plates and a couple of silverware. Next to the sink is a chopping block with a knife that is lazily sitting there. A small table accents the room as it sits with two country chairs on opposite sides of the square.

    The moon light creeps through the blinds exposing miniature fragments of reflections on the dark clothing as the glow creates shapes and depths of the creases in cloths of the mysterious man. Small rays make lines on the face, covered in darken fabric, making it harder to identify.

    The shadow creeps closer to the door way as Jessica sits there, unknowing of what is coming her way. Through the slits of the door, the stranger looks at Jessica sitting next to the window with her head in her hands. Her back is exposed to the unknowing danger that may happen if the person behind the door gets closer.

    The stranger opens the door slightly and enters the room unaware by his next victim. The dim light reveals the head more. The brightness dulled the burlap sack, hiding its creases in the bland brown smear of patterns. The built of the stranger looks manly as he stood a little over six feet high.

    Jessica sits there in a daze, her mind in focus, does not acknowledge anything but the deep sadness of the loss of her beloved.  She stares ahead not moving as walks closer to her.

    She snaps out of her trance as a noise resonates behind her. A fright shivers down her spine as the noise echoes in her head. In slow motion, she jumps up and turns in a frantic, but there is nothing there. She looks around area and there is no one in sight. The area is empty and she is the only one there.

    She places her picture on the ottoman and head to where the sound originates. She forces her feet to move faster as she hesitates to move at all. She looks around and still sees nothing until something shining on the table next to the kitchen door.

    She walks closer to the article. The glare from the light reveals that it is metallic in nature. She moves in close and extends her hand towards the object. It is a badge, her fiancé’s badge.

    She backs away in horror as she looks around for in fright. Her eyes are open wide as her feet stubbles back more. Her breathing starts to increase as her heart pounds harder. She starts to hyperventilate as she grasps at her chest. She backs onto a wall and continues to survey her surrounding sporadically.

    A slamming racket echoes through the apartment coming from the kitchen. Jessica walks to the fireplace and picks up a black iron poker from the floral decorative fire set. Her hand grips the tool firmly in her left hand as she lays it at her hip and her other held the badge. The poker gleamed through the dirt that gathered from the dust of the logs that lays half ash from the fire before.     

    Slowly Jessica walks to the kitchen door as she rocks the poker up and down in a nervous reaction. Her pupils fully diluted, drinking all the light in dark of her apartment. He breathing ventilated in small puffs as the door grows larger in her view. She places the badge down on the end table next to the door and reaches out to the door knob.

    She twists the knob slowly until it clicks lightly. The door opens slowly, creaking gently as it swings to the wall. Jessica feels around to her right and finds the light switch. She clicks it and the light flashes and shorts out. The light from the window gave some light but, still not enough to verify anyone or anything lurking in its depth shadows.        

    She walks to the rear door slowly; swing her poker outward as she examines the kitchen carefully. The sounds of water dripping excited her enough to swing towards the sink. The poker met a dish knocking on to the floor and shattering. Pieces of porcelain dusts around her feet she steps back and drops her left foot on a shard from the plate. The piece digs into her heel, piercing through causing it to be lodge in her foot.

    Jessica drops the poker onto the floor. In agony she leans to the sink lifting up her leg and grabs the shard. The piece begins to throb as she starts to work it out of her. The harden skin of her heel wraps around the foreign object refusing her to take it out. After a few seconds it breaks free it breaks free from its flesh prison. All that is left is a one inch hole.

    Air met with the opening as blood leaks out of the orifice causing the wound to throb and burn. She wraps a cloth, from the counter, around her foot. The white rag soaks up the blood in its pours creating a wine stain mark in the center of her foot. She feels some relief as the rag cuts off air. She starts to breathe easily as she places her head down. She forgets for a second on why she came in while the shot of pain starts to blur.

    A sound of the door shutting behind her forces her back to what is at hand. She looks back and places her foot on the floor. She ignores the shooting pain as it dissipates when her adrenalin kicks in full. She turns around and sees a shadow run from the window. She looks out and the figure hops down a ladder and runs in the street. She turns on the kitchen lights to look get a closer look but, the light drowns the view in a blurry haze.

    The throbbing of her foot intensifies as she hurries over to the door. Her shaky hands grasp the locks clumsily, as she locks the dead bolt. She turns around pressing her aching body against the door. She looks down at her foot and sees the cloth soaked in her blood. She then looks down seeing her bloody steps as the made a trail from the kitchen, but something obstructs her vision. A set of muddy foot prints making their way through the kitchen door. A shiver starts to cover her body as she looks up and on the door. The door had a message in a dark red substance say, “I am sorry”.

Her body gives out and she lands on her knees. She rocks her body and starts to cry as her arms wrap around her chest. She digs in her head through the cross of her arms and screams. Her cries muffled as the get trapped under her covering appendages.