One shots

Scene 6

The Window

I gazed out my window on a cold rainy Minnesota night, enjoying the sound of the rain as it hit the window.  Cars drove down the road in the dark, their headlights cutting through the darkness.  I sighed, looking up at the dreary black night and wishing that I could see the stars through the clouds.  I pulled my blankets over me and closed my eyes, snuggling into the soft fabric.  I rolled over to look at the time, 12:34 am.

Fantastic. I thought to myself. I rolled back over and pressed my ear against the window.  I closed my eyes again to relax only to be jolted back awake by my text tone, the TARDIS.  I groaned as I yanked my phone off the charger, demanding to know who would text me this early in the morning.  I squinted against the light from the screen as my eyes adjusted to the brightness piercing the dark.  I felt my face scrunch in concentration as I tried to read who the text came from. Arnell, the glowing letters declared. I groaned again in frustration and was immediately shushed by my 12 year old sister, trying to sleep in her own bed across the room. I threw off the now warm blankets and shoved my feet into my fuzzy pink slippers, instantly regretting wearing summer pyjamas instead of my typical sweats.  I groped my way through the dark room before remembering that my phone could double as a flashlight.

Smacking myself in the forehead I trudged into the hallway and down the stairs, skipping the fourth one from the bottom that creaks the loudest. I dialed Arnell’s cell number as I continued through the house to the slightly finished basement. The cold air hit me instantly, sending goose bumps across my skin. I suppressed a shiver and continued down the old blue painted stairs. The thought popped into my mind of when my best friend told me that they looked like something out of a Saw movie. I smiled and listened to the dull ringing in my ear. I plopped onto one of the couches in the rustically decorated basement.

A giant television conquered one corner of the two part room, enslaving the two gaming systems that were hopelessly attached to it, while dominating control of the surround sound speaker system. The two separate pieces of mismatches carpet lay lamely on the floor under the aging loveseat and worn leather couch. I snatched an old comforter off the faded Laz-E-Boy and wrapped it around me. The phone finally stopped ringing and I was greeted by the familiar voice of my best guy friend in my ear.

“Hayyy.” He slurred. I grinned to myself and tried not to giggle but failed miserably when I asked if he was drunk. “Imma not drunkkk...I can ar-tic-u-late perrrfectly.” he replied, his southern Texas accent making it even more of a challenge to understand him.

“You’re drunk. Horribly, horribly, drunk.” I laughed lightly.