Thursday, 9 January 2014

Short story Thriller Thursdays #2- Bad Day

Short story Thriller Thursdays 2- Bad Day

Why did she have to use the word banish? Like I'm some sort of demon. I haven't done anything I wasn't asked to do. Good lord I'm in the doghouse now. The worry infiltrated every crevice of his mind. He hadn't even noticed the rain yet. Silent rain, that fell like snow and landed like feathers, making everything wetter and more miserable. He had to do it, there was no other option. Banish, no thank you. 

He arrived at a doorway. A place he was supposed to call home. The rain dripped from the overflowing gutter and landed on his black woollen coat, leaving trails of silver streaming past his buttons. "Banish" he muttered as he slid his key into the lock and twisted it. The door pushed open and got stuck half way. Lazily, he tried to squeeze through. God dammit, when did I get this fat. He barged through the door which remained stubborn and got his brief case stuck in the gap which he had wondered how he had gotten through in the first place. "Come on" he mumbled under his breath and gave a yank at the handle of his brief case. There was a clicking sound. Another yank. A crunch, and another click before the brief case flew open and bundles of white paper scattered the air. No no no, not now. Ah shit. The papers sunk through the air like a lead weight and fell into puddles becoming grey undisturbed mush. Now the rain was really there. They better still be on my computer he thought.

He felt his face grow hot and red. The stress and worry left him damp with itchy sweat. He slammed the door shut and left what was left of the papers, outside. He flicked on a switch. Nothing. Oh come on. He pushed it up and down and up again. Nothing. Better just be a bulb. He walked past his dark living room and into his kitchen. He flicked another switch and got exactly what he was hoping to avoid. A power cut. Great.

He knocked on the door. The rain drenched his damp brown hair into a thick black mop. Please be in. The door swung open and a woman stepped out onto the front step looking at where she placed her feet. Her bag-for-life was raised in the air for balance as she stepped outwards. She looked up as a usual routine and- "Oh my goodness!" she panicked, easing off the last word as she realised it was only David. "You scared the life out of me."
"I did knock." he said matter-of-factly.
"Well I didn't hear it." she declared. There was a short pause while David remembered why he had knocked.
"I've had a power-cut." he said quickly before he lost his thoughts.
"Yes we all have."
"It's not back on until Tuesday I'm afraid. All the lines have blown down in the storm and it will take the repair men until then to fix them. Absolute shambles, don't you think?"
"Julie, today is Tuesday?"
"Oh, sorry, next Tuesday." she stood on her step with David  absentmindedly blocking her way. Her grey hair was getting wetter and she had no space so close to the doorway to open her umbrella. "I must be going. I'm not staying here for the storm with no power."
"What storm is this?" he asked, admitting his lack of time spent at home.
"Never mind. You'll barely notice it. Excuse me." she moved towards him, looking as if she was going to barge past him if he didn't move.
"Bye." he waved sarcastically behind her back.

He squeezed back through his stubborn door which hadn't actually shut when he slammed it earlier. I should get that thing fixed. He scanned around the room for his mobile phone while he took off his newly weighted coat, dense from the rain. Where's my phone? He rubbed the worst of his moisture from his hair with his hand, starting from his forehead and finishing with his neck. Dammit I'm receding early. He shook his hands of the water and went into the kitchen looking for his phone, bending down to take off his shoes casually as he walked. Where's my phone? He checked his pockets and underneath the cupboards where it may have dropped. It was gone. How do I lose these things? Where the hell is it? He rubbed his hair again in the same motion as before. This time it was through stress. Oh no. It wasn't in the brief case? No no. Please. He opened the stubborn door again as far as it would go. He looked around the pavement and around the drains. He then looked up to see his phone lying in the road, drowning. There was no way it would survive that.

He kicked the door in frustration which actually made it less stubborn as it opened a tad further. It was then that he realised he had taken his shoes off. He was then on the floor in agony with what felt like a broken toe, but was actually just a hell of a bruise. What's next? Am I going to get struck by lightning? He stopped holding his foot in pain and went into the kitchen to look for a torch in a cupboard. His house was uncomfortably dark. No power, no computer, no phone, no work. That means no job. Banished. God dammit. He found a torch after rummaging around his cupboards and clicked the button. Nothing.

He gave up rummaging for batteries after a while and hit his head as he exited the cave of the cupboard which was now unbearably messy. Ouch. He held his head in his hands marveling at his bad luck. Ah. I should get my phone and try and dry it out. I'll probably need an ambulance by the end of the night. He opened the stubborn door. It was less stubborn, but it still made David feel fat. He walked into the road in just his socks. He let the wetness of his socks slap the road until he picked up his phone. It was dead. No doubt about that. He held it up to try and see it in better light. Then, he got struck by lightening.

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