And the Phantom Always Waits – The Wilderness of Manitoba
When my alarm woke me up, I was face-down on a notepad. I got up, and walked to the bathroom, trying to get rid of the dizziness. A shower always helped. It wasn't until I was clean and back in my room until I noticed my notepad. It had sketches on it. Which was funny, because I didn't draw. I couldn't. I picked up the notebook and flipped back to the pages I had started on. It was the story that popped into my head, about a boy and a monster that came out of his dreams. Scarier stuff than I normally wrote, but nothing frightening. Until I looked at the last two pages. They were sketches of what looked like the story. A small boy with his back turned, holding hands with a tall and thin man with long hair and abnormally long limbs. His face was turned to the side and his eyes were scratched out and something was dripping from his mouth. The next sketch was of a city street, abandoned with cars and bodies. The tall man stood on top of them, holding a staff made of human bones.
I dropped the book and kicked it into the closet. What the hell was that? I couldn't remember ever drawing, and I never did because I suck at it. There was no way I did that. But I had to have done it. It’s not like I’d gotten possessed. I tried not to let out a nervous laugh. Maybe I was just subconsciously shaken up by the funeral. Thinking about death was never fun. So, maybe that was it.
The morning went by in a daze. I tried not to think about the hell-on-paper that was sitting on the floor of my closet. When time came around to head to work, I was relieved. Work always kept my mind off of things. I grabbed my keys in a hurry and locked the door behind me. When I sat in my car, I felt safe. The sketch was locked away in my house. Dammit, why didn't I throw it away? Or burn it? I thought about if I were in a TV show, I’d come home and the book would be missing or placed somewhere obvious for me to find again.
Jesus, Will. Get a grip. I told myself. I put my anxiety aside and drove to work. I walked into the back entrance of the store and set my things down in the break room. I greeted my coworkers with a smile and put on my name tag.
I worked in retail. I mainly took care of stocking the shelves, but I was also the girl that covered everyone’s shifts so my duties were diverse. Most people hated retail, and I didn't blame them. I wasn't a people-person so I wasn't sure exactly how I got the job, but I knew how to keep it. I did my work and kept talking to a minimal, all while plastering on a smile.
There was a stack of boxes waiting for me when I went to the storage room. Good. Nothing like clipping tags and writing prices to clear your mind. The store I worked in was small, but well known. We wrote everything manually so we didn’t have malfunctions and price mess-ups. Our computer technology was beyond outdated. We sold mostly dress suits, but there was a small section in the back filled with intimates and accessories. Everything was out of my price range, and some of the customers would look at me with disgust because my jeans and chiffon blouse wasn’t good enough for them. Thankfully, my boss was wonderful and didn’t care how we dressed so long as it didn’t have stains or rips. Plus, it was the ‘fancy’ store in a town of twenty thousand people, so what were these customers expecting from the employees. Sometimes it made me laugh. Not today. I was in a sour mood. I tried not to let it show.
Already half of my shift had gone by. It was getting dark outside and the wind was whipping so hard we had to shut our door so the bell would stop chiming. I sat on the floor, organizing a perfume display towards the front of the store when I heard the bell chime again. I turned around and saw a man come in, not taking off his sunglasses or his hat. Unusual. “Welcome, sir. Is there anything I can help you find?” I asked, getting up and wiping my hands on my jeans.
“Could you tell me where your manager is, please?” He asked. He had asked a question, but his tone was demanding. His voice was low and he talked slow. He was radiating energy that just felt wrong. I couldn’t help but hold my arms to keep the goose-bumps down.
