Bridge Jumper Comes Back To Life For Help: The Century Curse

010

Early morning cartoons played on the television while Diana rested her head on Ian's shoulder. Citrus hadn't been spotted since she shut them out of the basement, but he figured that she found time to grab a snack while they were absent the entire day. Ian brought Diana home and set her in bed, only to find the kitchen in disarray. A few extra paper plates and plastic wrappers littered the counter top. So he tidied it up, flipped the television on, and after Diana finished her hibernation, she joined him on the couch.

Still, he couldn't help but worry about his sister's state after everything that happened. But when the basement door swung open, relief overtook him as Citrus; with her messy black hair and black frame glasses, emerged.

"Citrus!" Diana shouted, shooting up from the couch.

Though Ian's sister smiled, she raised a hand and motioned as if to tell Diana to settle down, and perhaps quiet down as well. The exhausted Citrus shambled towards the kitchen with Diana following behind. But Ian didn't join them. He shared in his sister's tiredness, feeling too weak to even stand. After climbing the hills and avoiding open areas, he felt lucky to even make it back to the car. If that wasn't enough to call it a day, carrying Diana to her bed topped off his watery sundae with a mushy cherry on top.

If his sleep deprivation wasn't already bad enough, after Diana woke and joined him, she rested her head on his shoulder. He hadn't a clue how anyone achieved sleep with another individual resting against them. She didn't discomfort him, at least, not in an irritating manner. Instead, his heart wouldn't slow down for the life of him. But now that she's with his sister, he could finally get a break from all the havoc and rest his eyes. His body felt heavy as he watched the rubber hose characters on-screen bounce off each other's assaults.

"The things I would do to be as carefree as that." The lids of his eyes shuttered like a city storefront. The characters on screen twirled through his head, bouncing and dancing as they always did on Saturday mornings when he was a kid. Soon after, they morphed and construed into the shape and stature of the woman he secretly claimed to himself to be a goddess, Diana. Her birthday suit fit her well, just as it did when she sat on him in the shower.

Ian reached out for her exposed body, but it seemed just out of reach. Looking down at his hands and forearms, a black goo covered them as it rained down from the nonexistent ceiling. He struggled to shake it off, but suddenly, it took form. It was an empty black gelatin ball he predicted to be Rycklid. The mass shifted and formed into a fist. But instead of the swing of an oncoming punch, a gentle knock vibrated his skull and echoed through his head.

Brushing it off like he would an annoying fly, Ian continued dreaming. But the fist persisted with a reach around the back of his skull.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Opening his eyes, he looked up at the familiar ceiling. Blurry vision prevented him from making out the time on the clock, but the brightness of the room told him it was about noon. Clasping the blanket, he pulled it up, covering his shoulder before flipping over and closing his eyes once more.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He reluctantly sat up.

Who covered me with this?

Looking around the room, he waited for more annoying knocks to follow. But as he listened, he realized the girls weren't making any noise of their own.

"Citrus? Diana?" Ian called out, turning to plant his feet on the ground.

No response. His black ankle socks glided across the carpet as he recalled what he and Diana were doing before he passed out. He stepped into the kitchen betting on seeing the two converse over mugs once more, but if he'd been a gambling man, he'd have lost that bet.