Lucy's Sketches

Chapter 6

TW: This chapter contains references to automobile accidents and panic attacks. Reader discretion is advised.

You can't escape Grief.

Josh

Sam just left, and I'm about to head home as well because there's no way I'm staying here by myself. It's a beautiful house but also pretty darn creepy.

As I head for the door, I notice Sam's wallet lying on the floor near the front door.

"Well, looks like I'm heading over to Sam's house," I say to the empty foyer as I pick up the wallet. "He's going to need this if he's taking the girls out tomorrow."

I leave the house, locking the door behind me and start walking across the unkempt lawn to where my car is parked around the side of the house, thinking about frayed cables and loose roof tiles. Absently reaching into the pocket of my jeans to get my phone, intending to make a note about asking Lewis, the electrician, to look into the plug in the kitchen that makes a crackling sound whenever we're plugging something into it, I discover that my phone is not in my pocket.

Okay, guess I'm heading back into the house again, then.

A cold drop of water splashes onto the top of my foot, creating a blossom in the dust, and I look up to see thick, angry-looking clouds rolling in. I wonder why my feet are bare; where did my shoes go? I wiggle my toes into the wet grass while I walk, looking up at the imposing shape of the large house. It looks even more ominous with the storm brewing. It reminds me of so many haunted house movies I've seen, and now I have to go in there to get my phone... alone.

I facepalm myself for thinking about haunted houses when I'm about to go back into one that might actually be haunted for all I know. When I reach the front door, the friendly man in our school mascot costume opens the door for me and hands me my phone.

It's a Llama costume... I think our school mascot's name was Trevor, maybe. He compliments me on my choice of pyjamas, adding that the trains scattered all over the fabric go well with my personality. I don't know what that means, and I haven't seen those pyjamas since I was twelve.

Thick, mean storm clouds... ominous...

My mind feels strange and unreal as I walk back to my car. Ugh, I hate driving in the rain. Didn't I do all this already? The rain streaming down mercilessly on my body as I start running to the car, and the feeling of wrongness settling in the pit of my stomach feels somewhat familiar, like a strong case of Déjà vu.

The sound of thunder and the patter of heavy raindrops compete with the music coming from the car's radio. Wasn't I just running to my car?! I'm stuck in a traffic jam in the freaking rain on a Friday evening. Yay!

"Yes, yes... this is terrible news, Josh," the voice on the radio agrees, "you are all going to be late for the carnival."

Baffled, I blink at the radio and push my broken glasses up my nose. I can't see through them, and annoyed, I remove them and throw them on the seat next to me. Mom never got them fixed properly after Dad broke them when I was thirteen. I didn't realise that I still had them. I've been wearing contacts for years. Frowning, I move my hand to pick them up again.

Oh, wait... the traffic is moving forward a bit and, in the distance, I can see blurry, flashing lights, watery in the pouring rain. Flash... lightning flash... flashing; a hypnotic strobing rhythm to the beat of the rain against my windows. Oh, no! It looks like there might be an accident scene up ahead. I hope it's not bad. I hate seeing traffic accidents!