White Line Black Line

I was flipping channels and thought about this new paranormal craze.  I find it fascinating that public interest in the supernatural has become such a huge trend.  In addition to the Paranormal movies that have come out (which I will not see), there are at least a dozen reality shows dedicated to the topic.  Just on two networks alone, I saw listings for Celebrity Ghost Story, Ghost Adventures, Ghostly Encounters, Psychic Kids, Haunted History, Paranormal Activity, My Ghost Story, The Haunted, and Paranormal State. 

There is a new heightened awareness of other levels of spirit existence because of the sharing of paranormal experiences and ghost stories on these reality shows.  I dedicate my blog to exploring my own interests and discovering new ones that I never thought would be my own, but this trendy interest is one that I will keep at arm’s distance. 

It did inspire me to write a short story though. 

I call it  WHITE LINE BLACK LINE.

Rita fastened the top button on her nurse’s uniform and peeked into her kids’ bedroom. Ten-year-old Sarah was laying on her belly, knees bent, feet swinging back and forth. She seemed mesmerized by the episode of iCarly that she was watching and hardly noticed her mom.

Her little brother, Matt, suited up in Spiderman pajamas, was sitting with legs crossed on the floor trying to figure out how to snap the sword onto his Red-lion Power Ranger action figure.

“Kids, I got called in for the late shift tonight. I want you both in bed by nine o'clock.  Aunt Judy will be here by ten to sleep with you for the night. We’ll all go out for blueberry pancakes in the morning.”

“Bye Mom,” she heard as she walked down the creaking pine stairs and out of the front door.

The children continued to play in their room until Sarah noticed that the clock read 9:10pm.

“Matt, it’s time to go to bed.”
“Where’s my blue Power Ranger?” he whined.
“Matt, BED!”
“But I need it!” he screamed back.
“We’ll find it in the morning,” she assured him.

With a huff, he climbed into bed. Sarah turned off the light, shut the bedroom door, and got into the twin bed across the room.

She lay for a while watching the linen curtain float up and down then twist and whip as the night wind picked up. The sounds of her brother’s faint snores relaxed her and she soon fell asleep too.

SLAM

With a great startle, they both awakened to what sounded like a slam of the back door. But the back door had been bolted for years.  Spider-leaf bushes had grown to almost reach the top of that door.

Sarah pulled her cover to her chin and peered over to Matt.  A red glow from the digital clock showed across his face exposing his fearful expression.  The glow flickered as the number switched from 1:46am to 1:47am.

Motionless, they listened to slow, heavy movement just down the stairs.

KNOCK - STEP STEP     KNOCK - STEP STEP

Their minds immediately took them back three years to their grandfather’s last days, sluggishly walking the corridor, cane in hand, cigarette dangling from his cracked lips.

KNOCK - STEP STEP     KNOCK - STEP STEP then a creak in the stair – then again.

Sarah didn’t move except for a single tear that leaked from the corner of her eye onto her pillow. They listened to their door knob turning – then nothing – then the door slowly opening. Both children felt compelled to shut their eyes as hard as they could.  They listened as the pointed tip of a cane hit their wood-paneled floor and what seemed like two sand-laced soles dragging behind.

In terror, Matt clutched his blanket and tightened his eyelids. He could smell mildew and stale smoke from the figure that now stood over him.

As a desperate whimper made its way through Matt’s throat, Sarah felt a tug at her arm and heard a soft voice whisper to her, “Hurry, come with me.”  Relieved to be saved from the frightful figure, she jumped up.

The room still dark, Sarah yelled to Matt to follow them. They scurried into their mother’s bedroom and quickly into bed. She held the children close and stroked their hair while they buried their heads between her arms and chest. In the warmth and security of their mother’s bed, they eventually settled to sleep.

6:20am…

Rita, exhausted from her shift, walked in the front door. She headed to the kitchen and dropped her keys on the counter. She grabbed a cold bottle of Evian from the fridge and swigging it back, pressed the blinking button on the answering machine.

“Rita. It’s Judy.  I’m really sorry but I can’t make it over tonight to babysit.  Rich came in a day early and surprised me with theater tickets to RAIN at the Kimmel Center.  And you know how much I love the Beatles!  We’re headed into Center City now. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Rita set the water bottle down to go and check on the kids.  She shifted the position of the out-of-place umbrella vase at the base of the stairs and headed up.  She looked into the kids’ room to see blankets strewn across their beds and then turned to approach the closed door of her bedroom. She quietly opened the door and smiled when she saw Sarah and Matt sound asleep. Kicking off her shoes, she climbed into bed.

Sarah turned over and opened her eyes to the first light of day.  She smiled as she laid her head on her mother’s shoulder. Matt soon followed suit on the other shoulder. Rita clicked the TV on.

“Turn it to Spiderman, Mom,” Matt pleaded.

Rita flipped through the channels, gave out a yawn and asked, “Hey, what happened to the old walking cane that was in the umbrella vase?  It’s gone.”

Illustrations by my talented friend, Nicoletta Mazzesi

Do you know why the story is called White Line Black Line?

Begrudgingly,

BB