Wildest

Caught Red Handed

As if flying through the last mere opening of a closing gate, Theme arrives in due time to her villa. She parked her car and sent it underground with its elevator, slamming the door behind her and making a beeline for her bedroom. Like an Elf on the Shelf, it had moved. Obviously, enough for her to stop in her tracks, pressing pause to her tears, and her thoughts. It was on her bed this time.

"What are you doing here?" she mumbles, wiping off the sniffly with a rough arm. She picked up Hamlet, and let its heaviness gravitate her to the bed. They flop on the mattress together. She lifted it above her, staring into the two-dimensional eyes of the skull on the cover. She flips through the pages to see if the answers had written themselves in the time she was gone. No, actually, only to see if it gathered any dust. "I don't take you too literally too, do I?"

"For someone who misuses the word literally on a daily basis, you certainly never acted like it."

"V-voice!" Theme fumbles, the book falling over her face.

"I haven't got much time..."

"Voice who are you?!" she shrieks, jumping up, pointing the book around her room like a gun, scampering around to find its source.

"I'm not here to play games--"

"Then stop talking in riddles!"
"Theme you must look between the lines a little more..." it sounded rushed. Theme was annoyed at its possible more important errands that occupied it instead of preventing it from driving her crazy.

"What lines? The lines from the play? There's just empty space! I'm not stupid! I just need something more specific! Who are you voice?"

"Janine Cide. I hope you're not doing what I think you're doing." the sentence was followed by a gasp, then the gurgling complex sounds of a throat closing in on itself. The pages in the book lit up.