Once upon a time… on second thought, screw the “once upon a time” crap. This ain’t that kind of story. This ain’t no fairy tale. At least, not really. Stories that begin with “Once upon a time” are normally the truth, but that’s not what they want you to believe. Not at all. Once upon a time, is a crock.
It all began on an ordinary Thursday. Nothing out of place, sky was blue, the grass was green, and my hair was brown. As complacent as ever I walked to work in the financial district of Sacramento from my little apartment. If it had starting pouring rainbows and white picket fences, it couldn’t have been a more idealistic 1950s housewife’s dream.
Conrad and Quinn Inc. stood in the center of the block, a grey behemoth of a building towering over the funky little cafes and shops alongside the square. I climbed the stairs quickly, making sure the clock on the monstrosity had not yet struck 9. For once I was running slightly behind.
“Good Morning Ms. Baxter!” The perky blonde secretary chirped at me as I hurried past. “Cutting it close aren’t we this morning.” Her snub nose wrinkled in a conspiritory wink as if I had been caught with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar.
“Too pretty of a day to want to stay inside, Jessica.” I said. At least I wasn’t dipping my quill into the company ink.
Hurrying up the five flights of stairs I made it to my desk just before the phone rang.
“Marjorie Baxter, how can I help you?” I asked breathlessly.
“Maggie?”
“Hi, Mom, whats going on?” I knew it was going to be a long day.
“Nothing dear, just your fathers blood pressure seems elevated, could you drive down and help me check it? I’m afraid the man is going to pop off and have a heart attack at any moment!”
Mother, as usual was over reacting. My father had never had elevated anything healthwise, but my mother was very high strung.
“Mother, I cant leave now, I just got into the office. Besides I have meetings all day.” I fumbled in my desk drawer for an asprin.
“Surely, they understand that you need to take care of us too, Maggie.” My mom’s voice quivered. She was working herself up into a fine tizzy.
“Mom, I’ll make an appt for Dad later this afternoon and you can drive him over, Dr. Grove will be happy to see you.” I should make an appointment for you to see him as well, I thought.
“Fine, fine, if you can’t be bothered to help me now, the least you can do is pay for the funeral if your father should drop off!” She was really going into it now. I never had been forgiven for going off to school, while she had never had the opportunity. Worse, I had had the nerve to get a job outside the family business.
“Mom, I have to go, my boss is calling,” I winced a bit at the fib, “I’ll call you as soon as I make the appointment.” She stammered out a huffy farewell and then the phone was blissfully silent. For now at least.
Before I knew it, lunch time had come and gone, and I still had a pile of research to be done that towered well about my head. The books balanced precariously on the edge of my desk, daring me to try to add one more book to the massive pile. I felt a familiar tingle up my spine as a shadow flitted past my desk and the books tumbled to the floor.
“Thank you ever so much,” I grumbled as I knelt to pick up the scattered records. “I truly felt the need for a bit of exercise.” I was rewarded by a faint giggle. For a moment, I thought I had seen her. A girl of maybe four or five with blonde hair and peircing blue eyes, then the image faded as if no one had ever been there at all.
I let out a breath and stood up slowly. There was no shadow on the wall any more, just the ticking of the clock, and my heart thudding in my chest. I pressed my fingers to my temples and opened the book back up, and kept working, resisting the urge to scream. The shadows were back.
A thousand memories came over me. Shadows twisted into shapes, and ribbons. Some shadows stayed put, others moved and became human. Others still became monsters.
I told my mom once about the shadows I saw. The next day I went to the psychologist. I never spoke about the shadows again, and in time, I stopped seeing them. Every now and again, I swore I saw the darkness move, but I put it out of my head, saying that I was too old for such nonsense.
The rest of the day was more than busy. I managed to ignore the shadows that flitted by throughout the day, but by 5pm, my nerves were shot. Thank God the day was over.
I wasn’t really in the mood to head home. I hadnt shopped in so long, you would think my last name was Hubbard, first name Old Mother. I decided to catch the bus down to the riverfront.
copywrite 2006 TRawlinson
