'Annabelle' Sneak Peek

A sneak peek from the opening short story to be featured in 'Timor: Volume II'.

            Reid walked down the stairs from his room into the shared kitchen of the boarding house.  The communal pot of coffee sat on the counter, as it did every morning.  Mrs. Dunbaugh took the liberty of making a pot every morning for herself and her tenants.

            Reid sloshed the coffee around in the pot.  It looked dark enough, but was likely already cold.  He poured some into a mug and threw it in the microwave to warm up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his brown leather jacket.  Reid was a young man, twenty-seven years old and handsome, with short brown hair and a clean-shaven face.  His thoughtful pale blue eyes surveyed the room as he waited for the microwave to beep.  He lived in Mrs. Dunbaugh’s boarding house not because he could not afford better housing, but because it suited his needs.

            Being a bachelor, all Reid really needed was a bed, lamp, chair, a place for a small bookshelf, and a restroom.  Instead of concerning himself with a spacious overpriced apartment, Reid preferred to spend his earnings on the finer things in life, like 100% authentic leather jackets and his violin.

            The microwave beeped and Reid opened the door. He blew away the steam and took a sip of his coffee.  Not bad.

Reid had been a resident at Mrs. Dunbaugh’s long enough to see other tenants come and go �" some making their exit on covered stretchers, if they were older folks.  He had also seen Mrs. Dunbaugh go from serving up coffee you could read through to actual coffee.  Reid was thankful for that, since only a few weeks after moving in his Keurig had gone kaput.

Reid worked as a manager at the local library, which gave him plenty of time to get lost in books, both at and away from work.  He was a firm believer that coffee and books just went together.

The front doorbell rang and Reid could hear Mrs. Dunbaugh’s heavy footsteps overhead.  Mrs. Dunbaugh was a nice old woman who had to be at least sixty-five, though sometimes she did not seem a day over forty.  She was heavy-set, her thick gray hair usually piled on top of her head in a bun.  She had spectacles, but she never seemed to be wearing them since they were only “for readin’ purposes” as she would say, though Reid often saw her squinting at people and things.  If one could say something against her, it was that she fussed over the smallest things.  But all in all, she made sure her tenants were happy and kept a good house.

As she came down the stairs and hurried for the door, Reid leaned against the kitchen counter, drinking his coffee as Mrs. Dunbaugh answered the door and began talking to a man in a U-Haul hat.

Reid had motives for coming downstairs other than just to get a cup of old stale coffee.  A new tenant was moving in and he wanted to get a look at them right off the bat.  Reid tried to think that he was not the nosy sort �" that he just wanted to see if they seemed like a type of person worth talking to �" but nosiness definitely played a role.  Usually the other tenants fell into one of two categories: single senior citizens, or young people �" either in college or fresh out �" working as baristas and hostesses and the like just trying to find cheap housing ‘til they could get off the ground.  Reid fit into neither of these categories.

Mrs. Dunbaugh was explaining to the moving man where the room in the house was located on the second floor and that the tenant had not arrived yet when the sound of screeching tires could be heard through the open door.  Reid looked out the corner of his eye and noted Mrs. Dunbaugh’s look of horror, and knew immediately: that squalling had been caused by the new tenant.

“Likely a college dropout,” he said under his breath, taking another large drink of his rapidly cooling coffee and checking his watch.

He heard a car door open and slam closed, followed by a young woman’s voice.  “My God, the traffic getting to this place!”  Reid tilted his head to steal a glance of the tenant as she walked through the front door.  Once he caught sight of her, however, his head remained turned.

She was neither as young nor as old as he had expected, but appeared to be about his own age �" in her late twenties or early thirties.  She was slender with pale skin and high defined cheekbones.  She had a pixie cut, a few violet strands visible against her black hair when the light hit it.  She had several piercings lining both of her exposed ears, and brown eyes.  She wore a black leather jacket over a white graphic tee, the image obscured by the many necklaces she was wearing.  Below that she wore ripped blue jeans covered in paint splatters and black biker boots.

She leaned against the wooden doorframe, rubbing her fingers over the old wood, a silver ring with a large sapphire glinting in the sunlight.  Her expression softened: her eyebrows unfurling and her pursed lips losing some of their pucker.  Her eyes searched the foyer and a smile tugged at the corner of her lip-sticked mouth.

“Yes, I think this is the place.  This will do quite nicely,” she said under her breath.  Then she focused on Mrs. Dunbaugh.  “I’m sorry I’m late Mrs. Dunbaugh.  I hope I haven’t upset any plans you had for the day.  I’m Annabelle.”  She extended her hand.

Author's Note

A sneak peek from the opening short story to be featured in 'Timor: Volume II'.

Reviews

[Emma S Retzer]

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