Storm of the Century

Chapter 2 - Mrs Peters

I used to have a pretty boring life. Stacking shelves 5 days a week, painting portraits and luscious landscapes in the little free time I had in between. Sometimes I'd conjure up morbid scenes. Future cities built like concrete jungles. Barren nuclear wastelands. There's something calming about seeing a decimated world and then looking out of your window to see luscious fields, unknowing it could all be decimated in a few short weeks. God, even a flock of pigeons wouldve been a welcome sight if I only knew.

It was during one of my 15 hour shifts stacking boxes on top of boxes that something felt...off.

It was the start of this lockdown, the storm in its youth but still on the tip of everyone's tongue. The media were calling it the storm of the century. We didn't have many, if any, storms in England. An occasional bit of shitty weather, but never like this. It was a pain with all the panic buyers but hey, they were paying my overtime for a menial task so I can't complain.

Susie came up to me just after my shift started. Her cute button nose looking up to me.

The 5'2 brunette 21 year old had been a close friend since secondary school. We'd never really talked much in school or even outside of it really, now that I think of it. I guess my version of a close friend was someone I'd say hi to more than once a week. We worked together for a few months now and she always made time for me. Although I didnt reply much, we'd text on and off to catch up on each other's lives. We both had rough patches in our lives and for some odd reason, we'd also confide in each other.

"Hey Stephen, any plans for the weekend?" Her eyes twinkling with a look of excitement splattered across her face.

"Hi Sue! No not much. Just going to have a quiet one in. Gotta take my dog Rex to the vets whilst I get the chance"

"Ah right...sounds fun. Well...I'm having a party Saturday night so feel free to stop by. I mean, if you're not too busy"

"Yeah sure, I'll think about it" I confidently said, knowing fully well that I wouldn't be attending.

I hated the social expectation having friends brought with it. I'd much rather stay in my own bubble and mind my own business. The companionship was nice at times but I'd soon find myself overwhelmed and anxious.

A smile lit up her face instantly to my 'acceptance' as she skipped off down the aisle leaving me to get on with my day. I popped my playlist on and blocked out the world before getting back to the endless stacking of ravaged shelves hoping they'd last longer than 10 minutes before I had to repeat the whole ordeal.

It was about 6 hours into my usual routine of plugging out the world when it was disturbed by this guttural calling. Distant first. I could hear it in the background when the music was quiet. Thinking it was just parts of the songs that I'd never picked up on, or a distortion through my headphones. I couldnt make out a single note of it but, it was definitely something. It got progressively louder throughout the next few tracks, right up till it started drowning out my music, then my thoughts. till all I could think and hear was...it. I ripped out my headphones hoping it would end my torment. It worked for a split second, my ears trying to recover, when just as quickly as it had stopped, a gargantuan boom echoed around me, reverberating through my bones.

*come here, come here...COME HERE*

I snapped too and realised Mrs Peters, one of our regular late afternoon shoppers, was calling me.

"Come here" she barked whilst pointing to the can of dog food just out of reach of her frail, bony fingers.

The veil of anxiety washed away just as quickly as it was coursing through my veins.

"Of course, coming" I cheerfully exhaled as I reached past her plucking the can of processed shit that her dog would happily munch down on later.

As she snatched the 'premium dog chum' out of my hand I noticed something.

Her hands...they were completely white and frozen to the touch.

I swear my heart skipped a beat when she touched me. A vicious sweat broke across my brow instantly as I saw her eyes. Oh god, her eyes.

The usual brown safe haven of Mrs Peters warming eyes had disappeared...all I could see was a never ending abyss in place of those dark amber eyes. Staring into my soul, judging my every sin. I felt completely powerless. A sharp pain seared into the back of my skull, crippling me completely. The calling came back, this time it wasn't distant and wasn't coming from her...I mean, she was mouthing the words but I could hear it inside of my head like a siren wail intoxicating my very existence. Whilst this didn't sound like the usually chirpy pensioner, it definitely sounded like the monstrosity stood before me.

I stumbled back hitting the shelves behind causing a small army of cereal boxes to crash to the floor.

Every cell of my being wanted to just run out of the store and never come back. I looked up, terror somehow playing me like a puppet master even though no part of me wanted to see that thing again.

She. Wasn't. There.

I don't mean she had walked off, she took about a year to get around the shop as it was on a good day. She completely disappeared.

In an aisle full of arseholes acting as roadblocks, how could this 82 year old lady disappear without so much as a trace. Worst of all, that damned can was back on the shelf.

I picked myself up and steadied myself. Trying not to look crazy after already making a dick of myself, I patted my shirt down, pushing the the picture of Mrs Peters god forsaken face to the furthest recesses of my mind. A few people saw and gave me odd looks. Concerned but definitely confusion riddled within. I plastered a fake smile on my face and got on with my day.

The rest of my shift went without a hitch, trying to forget about the days earlier event, just attributing it to my over active imagination and a little old lady demanding help who managed to pull a Houdini with all the extra bodies in the store. I was working ridiculous shifts and tired to no end. I just needed a rest...right?

It wasn't that easy though. I had this overpowering feeling of dread poisoning my every thought. Thinking back now I shouldn't have been so naive, but hey, no one could've predicted what was to happen and in all honesty, what could I do?

Anyway, I was just about done with my shift, drained, hungry and ready for a quick bike home to my empty, 2 story wooden farmhouse passed down through the family. I was the only one left of the Charles family. My mum passed away when I was just 7...Breast cancer. My father, a drunk who didn't know what he loved more, alcohol or himself, ran away shortly after. Only leaving a note at the foot of the basement door. No one has heard from him since. My grandparents took reign of my childhood and I can't lie, they gave me a good life. They let me run free and well, I guess that's why I'm the way I am today. When I turned 18, the house got signed into my name and I've lived there ever since.

Being a kid in the middle of nowhere, without anyone your age means you have to find other ways to entertain yourself. I used to have a few imaginary friends...I forget their names now, but they helped a lot. My background doesn't matter too much to this tale. I used to have to go to the doctors a few times a week as a child. After a couple years pumped with medication, my grandparents stopped making me go, thought it was too much for someone my age. Thanks to everything I had to take and being so young, I forgot what it was that I went for exactly. Sorry, I'm losing track again.