Let me tell you. Nothing. I repeat. Absolutely nothing, feels better than that feeling you get when driving on flat asphalt with smooth new tires. I'm proud to say I enjoyed the journey, all fifteen minutes of it, at least. It was now 7:35. Who in the world holds their birthday at 7 or 8 in the freakin' morning? I'm not even sure if this was legal. Wait, so if I sue my friends, will I get money for charging them with disturbing the peace? I mean, I know they're my friends and all, but I surely wouldn't mind the spare change. Buying that Porsche did leave me kinda dry, so... What am I even saying? Looks like the lack of breakfast is already having its toll on me. Let's just hope that people are able to provide something edible this early. After all, Jane is known for her stunning skills in the kitchen. Wait, was that sexist? Wow. Shouldn't have skipped breakfast. It's a good thing I brought my diet coke, I guess. Something to shut up my stomach and hopefully my brain, which still hadn't absorbed or made any sense of that weird dream that I had this morning.
Let's see. 24 Lincoln St. apartment 47. Who would ever forget the place where they got their first kiss, right? I parked in the garage, made my way up to ground level, and called the elevator. The elevator doors opened up to reveal a man who was standing inside, eyeing me suspiciously. He was of old age. I'd give him a late 50's or early 60's age range. What troubled me wasn't the fact that he was staring at me, though, but the fact that the elevator just arrived from the 11th floor to ground level, and he still didn't leave. I waited outside the elevator for a few seconds for him to exit, but he didn't. In fact, he beckoned me in with his hand. I was puzzled, but I complied, not because I willed it, but because I didn't feel like missing my girlfriend's birthday for the second year in a row. Once again, the mad man from my dreams flashed across my mind. No, this is crazy. I quickly dismissed the thought, pressing the button for the 4th floor, then we both stood there in silence watching the doors come together once again, neither of us looking at the other. The stranger looked like one of those people in the movies who would try to open a conversation by asking about the time. I glanced at my watch. 7:39. All I have to do now is just wait for him to ask. Except he never did.
It stayed that way up until we reached the fourth floor. Then as the doors started to slide open, they closed again, and the lights started dimming slow enough for my claustrophobia to start acting up. I started to panic. What was going on? Is this a prank? A sick, twisted joke? Another dream? A NIGHTMARE? Just before the elevator went pitch black, my eyes fell on the old man beside me, who seemed to have neither twitched nor moved in these few seconds. He almost seemed like he was accustomed to it; as if he's the one causing it. Then everything went dark. I slid down to the floor, bent my knees, and closed my eyes, wishing it all to be over. That's when he first spoke. "So the rumors are true. Chris Thompson IS claustrophobic!" He chuckled. His voice sounded hoarse, packed with decades of experience and hard work as my mom would say. In other words, he sounded wise, with full comprehension of what he was saying. I tried to ask him what was he talking about, but for some reason I couldn't even move from my position. I was frozen stiff, in a curled up position on the ground, back against the wall, eyes closed, trapped in a dark elevator with an old man whom I hoped was neither a pedophile nor a homosexual.
Let's hope I was correct.
"Don't be alarmed, my child. You and I are alike, a lot more than you think we are, actually. I'm not here to scare you, nor to cause any trouble. I'm here to warn you. You are about to meet another one of our kind, but they won't be the only one you'll run into today. In fact, meeting the second won't be a walk in the park. Not for you. Not for many others. 23 others to be exact. None of this makes any sense, but all in good time, son. Also, next time you attend a birthday, please remember to buy a gift. We'll meet again, my dear. And no, I'm neither a pedophile nor a homosexual. See you soon."
By the time I could finally open my eyes, the lights were back on and the elevator door was open. The old stranger, however, was nowhere to be found. My mind must be playing tricks on me! Did I pass out in the elevator and had an extremely confusing dream? What were the rumors? Who was that guy? What exactly was our kind? Who am I? More like WHAT am I? I checked my watch. It was still 7:39! That 2 minute speech of his took us 7 seconds! Was I hallucinating? The answer is no, since there was a heart shaped box of chocolate conveniently lying on the floor beside me, with a card attached that said "Happy birthday, Jane" in my own handwriting! Something is wrong. Something is definitely wrong! First the dream and now this. Were they related? After all, both the mad man and the old stranger said that they will see me soon. Calm down, Chris. Calm down. Try to look at the bright side. At least now you have a gift to present. I walked out of the elevator and into the hallway. Door number 7. I knocked on the door. There was a crash, then utter silence.
My heart sank. No, not sank. More like fell down to my knees. What the hell is going on today? Why today and why me? I knocked harder. No answer. Harder. Still nothing. I was freaking out for the second time in two minutes. Well, practically the second time in a couple of seconds. Wasn't Zeke supposed to be here? The stranger's voice echoed in my mind. "You are about to meet another one of our kind." Was this what he was talking about? I whipped out my phone and dialed Jane's number. User is busy. I tried again. User is busy. I almost rammed the door with my shoulder when my phone suddenly buzzed. 1 unread message from Jane. I checked my messenger. "Hey! Sorry I'm not answering. Didn't expect visitors this early. Key's under the welcome mat". Not expecting visitors? But Zeke said tha- Zeke! That son of a... I should've known. I picked up the key, which I'm guessing was a spare, and made my way inside. "Jane?" I called, "Everything alright? I heard a crash from outside!" No answer. Well, let's give her some time to freshen up then. In the meantime, I should probably call Zeke. I have a feeling he's expecting me to do so. Wouldn't want to disappoint him now, would I?
I took out my phone. Huh? A game request from Zeke? Zeke Dunbar ran out of hearts on Candy Crush. Click here to send him a free one. I clicked. He's gonna be needing that heart after I'm done with him.
I dialed his number.
He answered.
"I have some explaining to do, don't I?"
Oh you have no idea.
YOU ARE READING
Beside Myself
Teen FictionGrowing up a lonely child, I was used to keeping myself company most of the days. Now it's just getting ridiculous! I went from asking questions like "How are you?" to "Who are you?" and from "Is she okay?" to "Does she know?". But the real question...
