The Actuality of Beyond

Strangers

     There in my living room, sat a strange man in a gray overcoat and rain boots. He had a mop of white, tousled hair and and shallow cheeks. Everything about him looked worn and ragged from the ends of his fraying coat to the holes in his little emerald cap. His eyes were closed, as if asleep

        I was taken aback by this funny looking stranger. He didn't seem very worried by my presence, just sitting back comfortably in my sofa cushions. For some reason his serenity put me on edge.

       " Ahem!" Nervously I cleared my throat.

        He didn't budge.

        "AHEM!" I tried again

        Nope. Still didn't work.

        I tried getting his attention a couple more times before finally giving up to go stare at him from the chair across the room. I stared and stared and stared as the minutes ticked by, getting quite frustrated at whatever it was actually going on. I couldn't take this uninvited weirdness for much longer. Eventually I worked up the nerve to walk up and hit the man a couple of times out of desperation. But it was no use, he wouldn't move. I plunked back into my armchair out of defeat

          I had absolutely no idea what to do. I doubted any of my neighbors could make any more sense of this than I could. My landlord might be able to remove of the stranger, but I wouldn't see him until next Tuesday. I pondered calling one of the council members, but we were only suppose to use them if we were in true mortal peril, and the stranger didn't seem to be putting me in harms way. Yet, whispered a little voice in the back of my head. I pinched the bridge of my nose with a sudden rush of panic. All my previous tiredness seemed to have vanished, replaced by a jumpy nervousness in the pit of my stomach. Think, I told myself, just think, why are you so scared? Nobody's trying to hurt you. But even if there was no reason I should be frightened by the dozing old man in my living room, there was no helping it. The situation was unusual, and nothing unusual had ever, ever happened to me since my dying day.

         I like a simplistic, uneventful lifestyle. But between Henry and my uninvited stranger, I sure wasn't granted much of it that day.

       I suddenly stopped. I hadn't realized I'd removed myself from the armchair and started pacing frantically across the room. I knew if I asked Henry to come he would, but I was also sure he would react with some far fetched story to explain why this man was here. Undoubtedly make the situation even more peculiar than it already was. I loved Henry, he was my best friend I had around this place, but there was no denying we had our differences. He had a reckless imagination and this odd craving for adventure I could never quite understand. Always making weird schemes about the Beyond, where you went and how it worked-- things no one else even bothered to wonder about. Always questioning the stories I told him about people I had seen in court; told me there were details missing from each case according to the library records. He'd tell me there was a reason for it but he couldn't figure out what. He was interested in everything, questioned everything. If anyone could make a weird situation weirder, it was Henry. Me, being the boring sort I was, could think of nothing less appealing. 

        Nevertheless, I didn't see any other more logical options. So after a moments hesitation, I grabbed the phone by my sofa and dialed for Henry, holding my breath as I waited.

        "Hello?" said a voice on the other line

        I took a deep breath, "Hey. Henry, it's Steph. Look, do you have time to drop by my apartment?"

        "...is something wrong?"

        "well there kind of happens to be a stranger in my living room...."

        I could feel an anxious pause on the other end. "Are you alright? They haven't hurt you have they?"

        " they're asleep on my sofa."

        "Give me five minutes."

        The line clicked off.