Summer's Frost

Chapter 3.

I don't own the image.

       I wake up with a start, to my alarm clock blaring on my nightstand. I slam the off button, this time not missing. I stumble out of bed and stretch, almost falling over. I look down at myself. Shockingly, I'm in my PJ's. I hastily approach my window and lock it. I rub my temples. It was just another dream. I repeat these words in my head for a few minutes. Then I remember the one other thing I need to check. I almost run downstairs, hurrying towards the garage. My bike still sits in its usual spot, near the door. I let out a deep breath.

       After breakfast, I get dressed into my usual t-shirt and shorts style. Yesterday was a rare exception to my normal outfits; tank tops and crop tops or anything not plain was something I don't enjoy wearing unless I'm in a really good mood, which I'm not.

       To get my mind off of last nights events -- No, last night's dream, I chide myself -- I walk to the cafe. Carmen takes a break to sit with me, sensing that something is bothering me. I tell her about my strange dream, the note, everything, making sure to mention it was all a dream. She listens, her thoughtful expression growing stronger as my story concludes. She's into psychology stuff, including dream reading or whatever she calls it.

       "I'm not sure about this one. Maybe you feel like something's watching you, and this is your brain saying what you feel; that you want to get away from it," she suggests. I shake my head, knowing that isn't what it was. "Okay, how 'bout you just really want to come over, so your brain is telling you 'GO STAY WITH CARMEN. HAVE AN AWESOME TIME WITH THE BEST PERSON IN THE WORLD.'" I laugh with her at her ridiculousness.

       "Ya, maybe," I mumble after the laughter dies, stirring my coffee.

       After Carmen gets called back to work, I take a stroll through the small town I call home. I get so lost in thought, I don't notice the footsteps echoing mine. My neck hairs rise, and my posture stiffens. I reach my hand inside my pocket, clasping the pocket knife I take with me everywhere I go. I turn left, glancing over to see who follows me. At first, I see nothing. Then I catch a glimpse of movement in the shadow of a house. Two, small frosty blue rings stare at me through the shadow. Eyes. I walk faster. The footsteps resume. In the reflection of a house's window, I see a man in a dark robe trailing me. I speed up, finding my way to a familiar road, and jog up the steps to the worn out porch of an old friend. I knock on the door, steadying my breathing.

       The door creaks open. "Who is it?" demands a little lady with a mop of brown hair streaked with gray. Wrinkles line her forehead, and creases form around her eyes. Her posture is tall (as tall as her back allows) and proud.

       "It's me, Nana," I say gently. Nana puts on her glasses and looks at me.

       "Oh! Kassie! Sorry, chica. I couldn't see you." She ushers me inside. I settle on one of the two chairs next to the small table in the kitchen. She sits across from me. "So what's wrong, dear? You look more spooked than an elephant by a mouse." I giggle at her comparison, making her happy. "There's that smile I love."

       "I'm sorry for coming without warning. You were closer than home, but I guess I still should have called --" She shushes me and places her hands on mind.

       "You are welcome here anytime, Kassie. Don't apologize to me. Now, what is the matter? I know you all too well to think that something isn't the matter." I sigh. Nana has known me since I left my mother's breasts. She was my nanny, and still looks out for me. Her real name is Alice, but I've grown up calling her Nana.

       "I was out walking around, to get some things off my mind, and someone followed me. I didn't see them very clearly, but they were definitely following me. He looked strange, wearing a long coat or robe in this summer heat. And his eyes..." my voice trails for a second. "They almost glowed." Something flashed in Nana's eyes. "What?"

       "Nothing, just that you need to be careful, my dear. You're young and pretty, and I'm sure there are plenty of creeps in the area, just like everywhere else. You still have your knife?" I pull out the pocket knife. I've never used it, I've never needed to. The blade is stainless steel and wicked sharp, and the handle is many colors. The colors fade into each other as they change. From top to bottom, they go from blue, to green, to yellow and orange, to brown, to purple, and back to blue. I flick the blade open. Seeing the knife seems to make Nana calmer. She has always been very protective of me, and, unlike many adults, prefers that I have this knife with me. "Better safe than sorry" she'd repeat to me.

       She makes tea on her rusted stove. She keeps everything clean, but her stove is the oldest appliance in her house. My mom has insisted that she replaces it, but Nana insists that she won't replace it until it stops working. We finish our tea minutes later, and I wash the cups. She gives me a warm hug before I leave. "Thank you, Nana." I whisper as I try not to squeeze her delicate frame to hard.

       On my way home, I don't catch anyone following me. I make it safely through my front door. I'm about to get a snack from the kitchen, but I stop, unable to help myself. I turn around and glance out the window, and my luck deflates. The same guy from before leans on a tree in the park. I close my eyes, taking deep breaths. I look again, and he's gone.