Invisible

Invisible-- Chapter Two

Starting off from where I stopped last chapter...

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Chapter Two

Oak trees towered over me, the silhouettes of their branches waving lightly in the breeze. Frowning, I sat up, my head throbbing. I glanced around, plucking some of the grass out of the ground. It was dark out; making it harder to see, but I could make out the shadows of a slide, a swingset, a jungle gym...

Why was I at the City Park in the middle of the night?

My eyebrows knitted together and I stood up, dusting off the butt of my pants. How did I end up here? Did I just dream everything that John tried to do, and just sleep walked all the way down here? That had to be it, I decided, not that I had ever sleep walked before in my life, but what other ways could it have been possible...?

Slowly I started walking back to John's house, kicking stray pebbles on the sidewalk with my toe. A sudden breeze made me shiver, and I hugged my stomach, expecting to feel a tee-shirt underneath my fingers. Instead there was nothing but bare skin.

I looked down to see my bare stomach, my bare legs, and the boxers I had went to bed in. Nothing else. Instantly I was much, much more self concious, my cheeks flushing like they usually did when I was embarrassed. Leave it to me to sleep walk outside in nothing but my boxers! Skittering over to the more shadow-y side of the sidewalk, I hunched over more, hoping nobody would see me...

After walking seven endless blocks, John's house came into view, blending in with the trees that surrounded it. None of the lights were on, which was odd, considering John almost always left the porch light on. I hopped up the porch steps and grabbed the doorhandle--

My hand went right through it. I blinked, absolutely sure that I had the handle in my grasp. I tried again; the exact same thing happend.

Experimentally, I touched the door, my finger gliding right through the wood like it wasn't made of anything at all. Tentatively I stuck my whole hand through the door, then my arm, then the rest of my body-- until I was on the other side of the door inside the house.

This was the weirdest dream I had ever had-- walking through doors like a ghost? Not only was it the weirdest dream, but also the most life-like. Normally my dreams would only consist of quick flashes of pictures, a few peoples' faces, and then I would wake up. But no, this one was more real... Like I was actually living it.

 I looked down at my feet to make sure I didn't trip on anything, when I noticed a dark stain on the dirty carpet. For a second I only stood there, and my eyes strayed away from the spot to another blotch that matched the same color. Kneeling down, my fingers stroked the stains on the floor. It had crusted over, sticking to the fibers of the carpet.

Blood.

My stomach churned as I stood up and walked to my bedroom. My toe hit something hard, and metal-- when I looked down I noticed a frying pan was just lying on the ground. ... It was all starting to occur to me now that everything that happend with John had actually happened.

Without exploring any more of the house, I turned on my heel and sprinted for the door, running right through it. The porch steps didn't creak under my weight like they usually did when I stepped on them. My feet carried me down the sidewalk, much faster than I would think I'd be able to run. The Andersons' homey little cottage thing was just a few hundred feet away, which was already in sight.

I didn't bother knocking before I barged through their door... Well, when I thougth about it, I wouldn't have been able to do it anyway, due to past experiences it wouldn't have done any good. Furniture seemed like it was trying to stop me from running up the stairs to their bedroom, but I did my best to avoid it all.

Please don't be doing anything disgusting in there, I thought before running through the door.

Mrs. Anderson sat on the edge of her bed, reading a magazine while her husband snored quietly beside her, already asleep. She didn't even look up when I walked in-- maybe she didn't see me?

"Mrs. Anderson!" I gasped, running to her side. Still, she didn't look up, like she was too absorbed in her magazine to notice I was talking to her. "Mrs. Anderson!" I said again, more loudly this time, reaching out to touch her shoulder. Before I touched her, my hand hesitated, and I let it fall back down.

"MRS. ANSERSON!" I shouted in her face, trying to look at her around the magazine in front of her face. "MRS. ANDERSON, LOOK AT ME!"

Why wouldn't she look at me?

 A frustrated tear rolled down my cheek, and I ran out of the room, back down the stairs, and out the door.

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