To Threaten My Father

March 30, 2009
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I sped down the starlit highway. I heard the whoosh of the air, as I dashed by the slower cars. My hands gripped the leather steering wheel with intense force. My hands began sweating. I loosened my grip, and reached for the heat switch. It clicked as I turned it to the left, turning it off. I sucked in some warm air slowly, and held it within my expanded lungs. I let my breath escape from a crack in my full lips. Fatigue overcame my body. I leaned back in my black leather bucket seat. My shoulder muscles clenched tightly, then released. With my palms still on the steering wheel, I wiggled my fingers, which were beginning to tingle. I shoved my thumb nail into my pointer finger. I could feel the contact, but it didn’t sting and pinch like it should. I pulled my right hand away from the steering wheel, positioning my left hand on the very top, to control the car. I shook my hand fiercely in the air. Suddenly, needles flew to my palm, stretching to my fingers. I curled my hand into a tight fist, which made the stabbing worse. A giggle rose to my throat. it began to tickle. I let a little laugh escape my lips. I placed my hand back on the steering wheel, and stared straight out of the grubby windshield. I caught sight of the exit, and I clicked on my directional. The ticking sound resounded throughout the whole car. I hopped in the right lane, and flicked it off. I sped onto the ramp, and made a sharp turn, to get on the road I had to take home. The road was dimly lit with the old street lights, that stood 20 feet tall. I finally reached my house, and pulled in. I parked my car in the empty drive, where my parent’s explorer normally sat. I turned my key, and shut off the ignition. I yanked out my golden key, and sank back into my chair. I closed my eyes for a short moment, then scooped up my bag and opened my car door. When I stood out of my car, the cold air whipped my face. I sucked in a sharp breath, the temperature startled me. A shiver trailed up my spine, and made my whole body twitch. I shoved the key in the hole, and when I heard the click of the lock, I sprinted through the cold to my house door. I grasped the frosty door knob, and rummaged through the keys on my key chain to find the right one. The jingle jangle of the metal clanking together sent chills up my slumped spine, making me stand upright. I found the correct key, and lined the teeth up with the grooves in the shining metal door knob. When I could turn the knob, and push the door open, relief washed over me. I lifted my foot over the step, to start inside. A yawn bubbled in my throat and I didn’t fight it. My mouth opened wide, my ears clogged, and a low noise came from my mouth.

I walked in and smelled the familiar smell of the febreeze air neutralizers and felt right at home. I hung my keys up on the sailboat painted key hook, and walked into the small kitchen to grab myself a bite to eat. I switched the light on, and the quiet buzzing of the electricity seemed louder than normal. I grabbed a box of Special K down from the old wooden cupboard and snatched a blue bowl. I poured the chocolate Special K into the bowl and the clinking sound reminded me of a quiet song.

I reached for the one percent, low fat milk, and mixed it with the yummy cereal. The cereal popped when the fresh, cold milk splashed onto each individual flake. I carelessly flung the box of cereal into the cupboard, landing on it’s side, and capped the milk bottle. I stuffed the milk into the crowded refrigerator, and heard the buzzing of the old machine begin. I walked into the living room, shutting off the kitchen light on my way, and plopped down on the yellow sofa. I reached for the remote, and flicked on a scary movie. I didn’t know what it was, but it was about ghosts, and it looked promising. I snuggled back into the soft, cushiony couch, and watched intently. My eyes were glued to the tv, absentmindedly eating my cereal.

In the movie, the ghosts looked like people. They were maybe a shade lighter than any person’s skin, like a milky white color. They could walk through walls, and weren’t able to be killed. I rolled my eyes. Movies like this were ridiculous. The ghosts were all evil. They were people killing ghosts. I hoped that people didn’t think this about all ghosts. Ghosts could be good,and I knew that. Just as a ghost was killing someone, I heard a knock at the door. It made me jump and spill a drop of milk.

I quickly rubbed the milk into the couch with my thumb. I sat my bowl down on the polished side table, cluttered with old magazines from moths ago. I scuttled to the door, and looked through the peep hole. A tall, lanky man with a gray trench coat and black rubber boots stood at the door. The hat he was wearing, covered his eyes while he looked down, and his brown hair poked out just a bit from the back. I was a bit confused about his choice in clothing. It wasn’t raining or even sprinkling outside. Maybe he was just trying to look suspicious, or maybe that’s all he could afford. I fought with myself about whether to let him in or not. I sucked in my breath, and held it.

I slowly and cautiously opened the door. The man looked up, and now, just barely, I could see his eyes. They were dark brown, almost black. The color in his eyes was piercing, and made me stumble back onto my heels. My hands began to sweat, as I rubbed them with my thumbs. What could he possibly want? My heart was pounding, afraid of what could happen. I decided not to jump to the worst conclusions. For all I knew, he could just be trying to sell something, or need my father’s help in a court case. He was the most appreciated lawyer in all of town. I felt proud to have him as a father.

“Can I help you?” I asked carefully.

“Yes. Is your father home?” He inquired. His voice was raspy. It sounded like he had a cold, and couldn’t speak very well, but I knew this wasn’t the case. I knew he just talked this way. It made the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end. I felt the prickle of goose bumps sprout all over. The way he talked sped up my heart beat another notch, making it to hyper speed.

“Um, no. He is out. Can I tell him you came? What’s your name?” I said professionally. I had this down. A lot of people came to my house asking for my father’s help in a court case. I was always told to ask who it was and for their contact information. “Here, I’ll go grab a pen.” I offered, beginning to turn my body around, and head inside.

“No, that’s all right. I’ll just come back another time.” His raspy voice was almost threatening now. My eyes began shrinking smaller, my eyebrows meeting. I lightly pressed my teeth to my bottom lip, and began breathing through my mouth. My pulse was beating at a very fast rate. The man half-smiled, the light of the porch revealing some yellow teeth, and a stubbled face. He slowly turned on his heels and strode down the steps. He stopped in his place, body facing forward, but very, very slowly turned his face towards me. What I saw then, was the most horrifying thing, I had ever seen. I gasped out loud and slammed my eyes shut. I began breathing really hard, and I thought I was hyperventilating. He smiled with all of his teeth this time, and his face was very pale with brown spots all over it. His eyes were wide as could be. The way he smiled, was not a happy smile. It was a smile of, I’m watching you, and I’m going to get you. I was so taken aback by this, that I fell backwards, back slamming against the door, shooting little rockets of pain up my spine. I twitched with fear, my forehead sweating now. I had one hand on the door handle, ready to make a run for it, incase he tried something. He said one thing and one thing only. It was, “Tell your father this. I’ll be back. And this time, I’ll get you!” He turned his head back, just as slow as last time, and walked away, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

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