Chapter Two

Personally, I don't know WHAT I'm doing.

I begin pacing the floor the moment that I rise right out of bed, and gather that I am:

- Fatigued

- Horrified

  - Flummoxed

- Starving

- Haggard looking

With these at hand I patter downstairs and fix myself a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, hoping that the entirety of 60 Minutes was but a mere hoax. That after I shut the television off he announced "Alright everyone, you can go home now, we're just tickling your testicles." That's an odd way to put it. Why would anyone touch your scrotum besides someone that you are romantically involved with or a doctor checking to see if you have testicular cancer? I've gone mad. Absolutely bonkers and horrifically insa-

There's a man at my door. He is dressed in a police uniform, his skin fair colored, emerald eyes, and a harsh demeanor. I scamper to the back of the kitchen, and the man looks puzzled. Several beats afterwards, he drops a brown package off at the front of my door, quickly exiting my residence. 

I am quite relieved to see that it was merely the USPS man, buckling up his seat belt and correcting his posture before taking off. I pick up the package, and place it inside the house on the marble counter, feeling like it's Pandora's Box or something. The phone begins to ring, and my feet are plastered against the floor, afraid that my suspicions will be revealed, that it is indeed the police coming to further question me as to why my fingerprints were located near the general area the night of the homicide. 

To my surprise it's just Julie, my friendly (Or rather too friendly) neighbor from the house next door, calling to check in on me. Her attempt at romanticism never fails to make me laugh in embarrassment towards her failure in wooing me. 

"Hey... Michael, it's Julie... I was wondering if you did good on your mid-term or not, I mean, I know you said you were busy, and I was just wondering that since we couldn't have a study group... I mean, partnership, I guess? Golly, I just... I dunno... I heard about what happened on the news. Mum told me about it. She was a really sweet lady. Kinda gripey. She'd always badger me with these weird questions, like, "Why are you always printing so much stuff? Like, we don't have enough colored ink to supply the whole damned world, Julie." Well, of course, librarians aren't supposed to curse. I mean, right? Anyways... I got you a little present," I glance down at the package, a tad bit disgusted since her last present was baked salmon, and I guess she's either horrendously retarded, or she just wasn't aware of the impending rays of heat that would further fry the fish sitting at my doorstep. I'd say both. "I... hope you like it. I don't really know... Tom's been acting funny, and I get the weird feeling that he might break up with me. I haven't talked to him in several hours, and -- " The voice mail cuts off.  I suppose there is a God somewhere. 

Not in the least bit excited to rip open the gift like I were a kid on Christmas day, I place it in a far corner of my closet, hoping that isn't anything consumable. 

There's a slight breeze coming from my bedroom window, so I reach with the intentions of trying to shut it but the hinges won't budge. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot some young woman rocking to-and-fro on the aged swing set that sits gathering dust and pollen in my backyard. She seems like trouble, but the type of trouble that if you saw her sitting innocently in your backyard swinging on your aged swing set with her a*s against the wood (God I'll have to preserve that) looking as if she's searching for something in the sky, like a purpose or a reason as to why she's lying in this stranger's swing set, well, you just leave her there and try to behold that a*s. Really, it's pretty nice. But then she catches sight of me and I duck below my window abruptly, ridding myself of the mirage. Well, at least I hope she wasn't. 

Seconds later her breath is against the nape of my neck, the scent sweet enough that it leaves a tingle across my spine. 

"Hey Michael, we've got some important business," She hisses. And as I glance towards my far left, I see it. And that "it" there, is an an angry Julie just staring at me intently from across her yard, drowning her plants with the green hose, her pupils in the shape of slits. 

I suppose the ordeal will have its impending awards. 

Author's Note

I welcome reviews like newborn kittens.

Reviews

[Zero_Edge88]

Haha second paragraph with his actions. You described one fourth of my day when it comes to writing down on my computer! It's so heavy when I write down my materials that I end up questioning things around me and start debating them nonsensically until my mom's dogs (10 and I don't know why she wants that many lol) start barking and I'm like okay, time to go and see what's up downstairs...

What happened to your killer story though? I must ask because this one reminds me of a typical summer day in the neighborhood for sure. It is beautiful for sure and in a way it is narrated from a male's point of view too. I find Michael's character to be that of as a putting person right there and he has very deep thinking for sure. Perverted yet so meticulous in ways too.

That is all for now, hope you get back to the Jekyll and Hyde story that one still boggles me whether or not if he really was caught! Take care and have a beautiful rest of your Sunday :)

[A. H. Pinley]

There are some wording issues, but you have my attention. The supernatural or is this guy having a nervous breakdown? Maybe I'm just way off base. The neighbor Julie is a stocker and a mess, mentally. Nice work so far!

[Blissful Sin]

Cant wait for the next chap!!

-Bliss

[ThoughtsofShyann]

Oh my gosh loved it it was amazing great job!!! :)

[Karl Woof Junior]

come on its like you gave up at the end, why do you write with such hope for a good ending all the time, dont ask me how to end it but seriously i was left saying WTF MATE

[Saifer]

I don't get where this is constructive. You didn't really say anything.

[Karl Woof Junior]

its difficult to read stories for me, its just there doesnt seem to be any progress theme or strong narrative to think, there are so many good lines very philosophical, just re read it and make a string in your mind so we can all follow it, i liked it try a re write and ill read it again

[Saifer]

Stories or novels progress are a lot slower in the beginning, you have to take time building your characters and world and situations, like a web construction of causes and effects. Hence... Story! http://i.qkme.me/3pdupm.jpg

[nihilistictablelamp]

-goes to Karl Woof Junior's profile and quickly starts writing horrific reviews bereft of capitalization-

I'm kidding. But, what exactly do you mean "Hope for a good ending?" What? Like, they end of having a "great time?"

[Karl Woof Junior]

maybe idk i was just looking for some closure, there are only two things that make great writers, writing what you feel like writing and writing what you feel needs to be said.... even if its about capitalism which i have written about, maybe im dogmatic though

[Saifer]

Ummm, what does that have to do with anything? That's just a general fact.

[nihilistictablelamp]

I think we should just continue with our lives before this turns into something weird.

[Karl Woof Junior]

weird and intimate are the same word in japanese