A ripple effect starts to take place. From where Laura and I are standing, we can see the street lights turn on in quick succession; one right after the other. They make no noise; no buzzing or flickering, they simply switch on.
Soon the entire main road is alive with light, some lights are a blue-white, and others are a soft yellow. It immediately spreads a sense of warmth over me, the feeling of constant unease put to rest.
"Power must be back on," Laura says. She let go of me, I'm not too sure when she did that.
I don't think the power was out. I can't entirely explain why I feel that way, but I know that something much more complex is happening.
The sky has taken on a subtle bluish tone: the sun is rising.
"We should keep moving," Laura says.
We continue to walk down the main road, both of our phones tucked away in our pockets. There's no need for them now. I still haven't messaged my relief about the day off. I will do that soon.
"What's more exciting to hear: a really scary story, or a really exciting story?" Laura asks.
I consider this for a second. I've heard stories from different ends of the spectrum: some intense and others really exciting.
"I think scary stories are better to hear," I begin. "People love that feeling of unease, to get goosebumps by hearing a freaky story. I don't think you can get that type of reaction by hearing an exciting story."
"For once, I agree," Laura laughs.
I think now is a good time as any. "I believe I almost got kidnapped once," I say.
Laura looks at me with bewildered excitement. "Tell me the details."
And so, I did. I have had the details play out in my head for many years, thought about how I would tell it, what details to focus on, what feelings I felt, how it led up to that moment.
Laura didn't interrupt me as I share the story. She keeps her head bowed, nodding when necessary, along with an occasional 'mm' or something.
"And nothing like that was ever reported by someone else?" Laura asks.
I shake my head. "I kept an eye on newspapers, and when I was old enough to understand Google I researched the town history and see if there were any obscure articles I had missed or something. But nothing like what I saw ever happened."
Laura kept her mouth agape. This is the reaction I was hoping for. It excites me to know that I had something to share that was of interest. Laura stayed silent till the very end.
"Do you have anything to share?" I ask.
Laura looks off in the distance first, and then shakes her head. "I told you that my mother walked out on us. I have those basic, drunk-at-a-party stories that are all the same: I fell off a chair while trying to dance on it, I accidentally hooked up with someone I shouldn't have, I've lost some friends because of issues that neither of us expressed until we were inebriated.
"I might have some dramatic, mother-daughter reunion story to share with you down the line."
"Assuming that you and I are still talking after this... whatever this is," I say solemnly.
Laura nods in a nonchalant matter. There was a light-speed hint of remorse, but she flicks back to her neutral facial expression. I'm trying to take a dig at her, try and prod out some proclamation of regret. I regret telling you this is a one night only thing, I want her to say, or something along the lines of that.
But on the other hand, I can't imagine Laura and I being friends. We definitely wouldn't if we went to the same high school. I would have despised her just like I despised the vast majority of my school. I definitely would have been tougher on her at The Myriad; tell her how much of a bitch she was to me back in high school.
However, we didn't go to the same school. I don't think it's right of me to assume that she would have been mean to me. She's being nice to me now, isn't she? We don't agree on a lot, but she's helping me understand a few things in life that I would never have learnt on my own.
"How often do you go here?" Laura asks.
"What do you mean? How often do I go where?" I say.
"To the place we're heading to?"
"I only ever came here once," I answer. "Haven't been to it since."
"How long ago was it?"
I think as I continue to walk. The sudden memory of the flash comes into my head again, but it stays for a second longer than last time. Long enough for me to realise that I wasn't seeing a flash, but a flame. A large burst of inferno, so bright and furious that I can feel the heat it emitted, even in memory.
"I honestly can't remember," I say.
YOU ARE READING
Night Shift
General Fiction"It's the same routine every night. I've done it so many times I can basically lock everything down to the very millisecond. Hell, maybe even the very nanosecond. "
