Dreamlocked

Chapter 2: A Locksmith and The Third Mysterious Step

Hello lovely readers (if I have any lol),

Here I am again to you know update. So fair warning my updates shall be few and far between, just thought I'd let you know that.

SO. Here is the next chapter enjoy!

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The stranger cleared his throat loudly and obnoxiously, it was a sound that demanded to be heard. I closed the book and turned.

“Yes?” I asked impatiently and annoyed; my boredom causing my temper to surface. 

I noted everything about him. Just a curse of being me; I noticed everything.

“Nothing.” A small smile tugged at his mouth.

“Okay then.” He was acting smug. I turned back towards the doors of the lift.

The man was unmistakably ginger, earlier it must have been spiked, but melted in the rain. He was tall too. He had green eyes and was dressed young; he was young in general. He was wearing a damp, black tuxedo jacket and he was sporting blue jeans and vans and a peek of a white t-shirt on his torso. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my notepad. I fished a pencil out of my coat and wrote down my findings. If I ever saw this guy again I’d be sure to recognize him. The lift opened and I stepped out onto the second floor. I had to ride the lift and take the stairs because in between my floor and this one was two story flats. The lift was basically private, except for the bloke standing in it now. I took the left towards the stairs. The bloke lingered, and then followed. Well, I added creepy to my list about him.

I was working on shouldering the door to the stairs open, when the stranger came up behind me; so close we could be touching. I shoved against the door once more, it still wouldn’t budge. I slumped against the wood. The bloke gazed at me curiously, the same smirk climbing across his lips. I raised my eyebrow.

“Care to tell me what going on up there?” I said gesturing to his forehead. The way he held himself screamed cockiness; from the way he was leaning against the wall to the way he was watching me give up on the door in defeat. He also looked at me as if he had known me his whole life, which wasn’t possible because I would definitely remember him.

“There’s nothing up here,” he tapped his temple three times, “to tell.”

“Well, sure there is. You're not acting so smug for no reason.” My implication must’ve hit home because he opened his eyes in surprise. I pushed off the door to stand.

“Fine. I was just thinking that I could get that door open.” He said.

“Oh, really?” I folded my arms over my chest and leaned forward. “Do it.”

“Alright. Move for just a tick.” He skated past me to the door and leaned over the handle.

The tune from the lift crawled into a whistle as I watched him examine the lock which had no keys. He even put his ear on the door. I pulled my notepad out again and jotted a question under my profile of the stranger. A question people often asked me. Mad? Must be. I turned away from the ginger man. I looked down the hall. The ding of the lift travelled towards me from that direction.

“Any way you could get the door open faster?” I turned to ask the man.

“Any particular reason why?” He asked right back.

“In truth, no one in this building likes to see me about. I'm often considered the evil neighbor, but God knows I'm not. Never the murderer, sometimes I meet them though.” I spoke in a thoughtful tone. “Now, diagnosis, doctor.” I threw a look back at him. He was crouching before the door frozen like a statue. He seemed to be trying to remember what to do.

“Door? Unlock? You said you could.” I prompted him.

“Um, yeah,” he looked lost, “the door.” He barely touched the wood and the door swung open gracefully. I still had my notes out and I added ‘good with locks/doors’ to his profile.

“Nice going chap.” I said. That seemed to snap him out of his state of bewilderment and he stood.

“After you.” He gestured to the threshold. ‘Polite’ made my list then, I pocketed my utensils. I walked through quickly and picked up my pace on the stairs. The man kept up easily; long legs. I mentally added ‘quick on his feet’ to my list for him.

“Thanks for opening the door.” I threw over my shoulder. “How’d you do it?”

“Well,” he ran his hand through his hair causing it to stand at attention, “I jiggled the handle a bit.” He shrugged non-suggestively.

“No?” His explanation caused me to rethink cocky, his first action was partially impressive; considering the fact that my efforts to open the door were completely fruitless.

“Impressed?”

“Sure.” I placed my foot on the third stair and stood looking at the front door of my building. The mysterious guy almost pushed me off the stairs.

“Why’d you stop?” He asked. Desperate curiosity draped his words, but confusion blossomed from his question. Why do I stop on this stair? I always have.

“Really?” He countered. I must have spoken aloud.

“Yeah.” I turned on him and looked up straight into his eyes. “Why would I do that?” I asked all but rhetorically.

“I don’t know.” He looked confused, and cocked his head to one side. I turned back around and took the last two steps.

The third step. Always the third step. Why? I saw a bench peeking through the window. I pushed open the door to the building and turned to the bench. This time I wasn't being followed by a certain mad locksmith. I sat. There was an awning above my head shedding rain onto the road. I pulled out my notes, set my book on my lap, and balanced my umbrella against the bench. I noticed everything; my clever mind deciphered the trickiest puzzles. There had to be something about my habit within the pages. I turned to my latest entry and a new question tugged on my thoughts. Who was the man from the lift? Why didn't I know him? What was his name? Why would he talk to me? Me of all people. Most people stayed away; for all they cared, I was insane.

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So thoughts?

Why do you think she stops on the third stair?

Stayed tuned for chapter three... it's coming around the corner and is a cornerstone moment.

(lol I'm so cheesy)