Book One In The Ahh-Ness Of Things Series: April & Donnie were once inseparable, but now almost six years have passed since she left NYC. What if April O'Neil could set the record straight, once & for all! The only girl down enough to chill with the...
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They say that houses absorb the memories of those who live there. That stone walls in particular, can in an unusual phenomenon, record the sounds of the past; like magnetic tape in a cassette. Perhaps I have become a house & these visions are just recordings in the stone walls. Lost in a memory so vivid; I could almost hear the coffee maker bubbling across from me. It was an echo from almost ten years in the past; from this very same room. I was exactly where I sat now. I gently got up from the bed & walked over, placing the bag of grapes down on the 200 hundred year old, wooden writing desk. I hesitated, then reached for the little handmade tea cup.
"Here drink this"
I had been in and out of sleep, resting with my eyes closed, and hadn't heard him come in. He was very quiet for someone so large; I thought to myself, as he sat down gently on the edge of the bed. I looked into his outstretched hand and saw a beautiful little ceramic cup, hidden in calloused, leathery palms. It was handmade; a pretty dark purple-ish color, with little peach flowers painted on the side. There wasn't a handle, and he held it under my lips, to take a drink. The liquid inside; bright green with little pieces of sediment floating in it, but I kind of liked the way it smelled. "What is that?" "Matcha...I promise it's good." He answered sweetly. I had heard the term before, but I had no idea what he was talking about, and I must of made a face. "It's green tea." "What's in it it's so.... green." "Ginger, honey, lemon, a couple of drops of lavender...it's soothing. It won't put you to sleep and It'll just help you heal."
I lightly took the cup from his hand, rather than letting him put it to my mouth. It was medicinal but sweet. "It's really good." I could see he was pleased. He sat back a little on the end of the bed, making himself comfortable. I couldn't take my eyes off of him; he was so strange, so he kept his face turned away and there was an awful silence.
He brought his knees up inside, cross-legged with his hands tucked beneath the crook of his leg, and I began to feel awkward as I realized again; this was his bedroom. I was invading his space, and for a moment, I felt that I was imposing; sleeping in his bed. And where had he slept the night before? There were blankets on the floor beside me, and I knew he had been there in the room with me all night. I caught sight again of the sillouette of his face, as he sat there across from me. He knew I was looking him over. I could easily tell he had not slept at all; politely trying to hold back a yawn. And so he spoke again. "You know...I'm sorry; you must feel like you're crazy. I promise you're not, as horrible as it might seem; this is all real...so at least you're not crazy." He kind of laughed and then stopped, when he looked back towards me.
Which was worse; knowing I was in the presence of monsters, and accepting it, or holding on to the hope that this was still just an Illusion? Some awful dream delirium from hitting my head. Maybe I was really in a hospital bed somewhere; all of this was from the drugs, and the trauma, and my father was sitting there in his place, waiting for me to wake up. But no. I really was sitting in the presence of some nightmare creature; who is bringing me tea, like a gentleman. Quietly waiting for me be calm enough to speak. I asked the obvious question again, but this time, it was conversational and not frantic.
