Sharing Nightmares

Ryan Willox || Shattered

Shattered by RyanWillox

The realtor’s Lexus was already sitting in the driveway when he pulled up. Strange, Bill usually drove a Toyota.

Regardless, there was no sign of his wife’s Honda Civic.

“Where are you?” he texted.

No response.

Jim paused, wondering whether to wait. He was on his lunch break and traffic had kept him from making good time.

Ann had seen plenty of homes without him, so worst case scenario he could describe it to her later.

Otherwise, he wasn’t going to have time to eat before going back to the office.

The drive was well-appointed, bouquets in full bloom along a winding path and the grass still neatly cropped.

Apparently the previous owners had been out of the property for a while but there was no evidence of neglect on the exterior, window boxes still in-tact, ivy neatly intertwining a lattice work awning over the entry, no exterior brush unlike so many of the others they had seen.

So, so many.

He would generally have waited outside for Bill to call him in, or his wife would already be there inwardly chiding him for his tardiness so the tour would be more of the whirlwind variety.
No such luck this time. Jim glanced in through the pane at the side of the mahogany door. No one there. Maybe Bill was upstairs? Either way the window was closing on his opportunity to snag a burger on the way back, even from the drive through.

Straightening his Paisley tie, he grasped the door handle and walked in.

“Hello?.....Hello?”

To his right was a large family room with a large fireplace, on his left a study. Ahead was a staircase that lead to three, maybe four bedrooms. The hallway carried on towards a large kitchen with picture windows that looked out onto the patio and a sweeping lush green lawn.

Jim was walking in that direction when he was startled by movement from the corner of his eye.

“Hello.”

Jim whirled with a start and was caught off guard by what he saw.

He had been expecting Bill, unkempt hair, ill-fitting suit, gut hanging over pants that were a size too small.

In his place was a petit woman, bobbed hair-cut, minimal make up wearing a grey jacket and skirt with a sky-blue blouse.

Jim barely had time to fully form a thought before his mouth engaged. “Bill….eh…is?”

“Bill won’t be joining us today. I’ll be taking care of you.”

A hundred calculations spun through his mind. Could he bump the tour? If he was out of here in five, maybe ten minutes, would he have enough of an idea of the place to act like he’d taken it all in? Would he still be able to get to that drive through?
Jim glanced around, took his phone out of his jacket pocket and contemplated sending another text, then snuck a look at his watch.

“The house has a flow to it,” she said, holding his gaze. “It really doesn’t take all that long to tour.”
As the realtor guided him through the family room, Jim wondered if there had been some mistake.
Even from his cursory inspection since pulling up out front, he could tell this size of house was well out of their range.

The family room stretched the length of the building, had rich hardwood floors and built in bookcases at the far end. It looked immaculate save for some broken glass around the fireplace on the left wall.