House on the Lake

I sat in the backseat of the hybrid van and watched the street lights go by.  My cigarette smoldered, I smiled.  I knew the smiles in the front of the vehicle could be plastic and practiced, or nonexistent in their own right, but I hasten to say either or.  I pondered this while I slid my thumbnail through my other nails.  I cleaned out the particles embedded between my nails and the skin below them.  The feeling was relief.    I took in the night.

What if we hit someone or something on the drive?  The other occupants may believe in denial and deception, I am more honest than that, maybe.  I believe in justice, in most cases; however, my companions may doubt this idea passionately.  My nails are clean white by now.

The wind blew as darkness set in.  The air about us was not cold, but in large amounts the breeze brought a shiver.

Earlier that evening, I sat in a lakeside house, light yellow in color, and full of unspeakable emotional events, and smoked outside in a swing-chair connected to the roof of the patio.  Earlier that evening, I sat in a lakeside house and watched the sun set over the lake, the wind blew waves to white tops, which sunrays bounced and bent off of into oblivion and into my memory.

I was told that I am a  beautiful my whole life.  I don’t believe you.  I have been told I talk too much and I said yes.

I figure while crossing the street I could die, and would I want those to be my last words?  Maybe.  I tell you I love you.  I want to contact everyone I know.  I want eye contact and their full attention.

While sitting in class I recall seeing an orange colored lizard tail slide over the water bottle in front of where I sat.  Brown spots dotted it side-to-side as it swayed back and forth over the reflective plastic.  I didn’t say a word because the last guy that made a scene in the class got ********.  He would interrupt and annoy the students, and harass the teacher with tangents and non-sequiturs to the point of insanity.  One day he just snapped.  He yelled and cursed and would not let other speak.  A week after this little incident in class the ******* ******** of our school called me to ask me questions.  I told him that I thought the guy was out of it.  I told him I didn’t know if he was drunk or not, but I knew he was out of it.  He said to keep this information *******.  I suppose ******* works both ways.  Anyway, I would want my peers to say the same about me if I had a meltdown in class.  Something like, “yeah, he wasn’t drunk he was just out of it.  He probably had something on his mind that made him react like that.”  Maybe they would say that.  Maybe.  I was not like this guy my situation was different, unwanted and strange, but I knew I could not risk looking crazy in this situation.  I had just received a bunch of student loans and I hated working.  I kept my cool.  The lizard crawled across my water bottle, then my desk and vanished.  I knew it wasn’t real, but I saw it.

Walking from class Tail called.  She was looking to pick me up to use my I.D. and trade some clothing.  Maybe get some money for them and have some beer, maybe.  I love danger, excitement, greed, lust, drugs, and rock-and-roll, or in this case really loud dub-step in her mother’s hybrid van, in any event I felt just fine.

Later that evening I was sitting in a lakeside house, light yellow in color, watching television from an L shaped couch near a girl.  The girl, Tail, kept looking at me and repeating these words:  She is so beautiful; you will be amazed at how beautiful she is.  She is beautiful; you will be amazed at how beautiful she is.

The anticipation had been building for sometime, maybe an hour.  We both were apparently hoping that she was in a good mood.  We both were hoping for something.  I had no clue as to what to expect because I had never seen this person before in my life.

The sun was almost all the way down and the room was dark with the television-set throwing light around.  Poorly lit and dangerous, unfortunate for those with epilepsy, there was a strobe light quality that made me feel an air malaise.  Moments later I heard a sound coming from the hall.  I heard a rustling sound.  The way a newspaper sounds when you move it from a table real fast.  I saw a black figure standing in the entryway of the room.  The figure emerged.  A skeleton wearing a blond wig entered the room from a darkened hallway.  Tail looked at me and said, “ You are lucky she is in a good mood.”  Tail’s eyes were black with spots of television lights blotched on them.  She repeated this 3 times and then she stopped.  She gazed at the figure.  Blinking, she said, “You are really lucky.”  She looked up as if her neck had been broken by the shear force of her head tilting so abruptly.  She repeated these words in the direction of the ceiling.  I looked back at the skeleton with the blond wig on and I took into account it was wearing a black hoodie and had an amazing smile.  Long teeth; exaggerated by the lack of lips.  She walked towards me.  I could still her words.  Her hand out stretched.  I looked down as the couch came into view then closer, then up close and black.

Was I surprised?

I don’t remember what happened after that, but I woke up in the back of a hybrid van smoking a cigarette smiling.  The too occupants ahead of me were smiling.  I could see it all in the rearview mirror from the backseat.  Long white smiles.  I flicked my cigarette and the light turned green.  And we drove on.

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About Terry Scott Niebeling

Hello, My name is Terry Scott, a human being with flaws. twitter: @sirterryscott Buy my ebooks: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1/191-4788099-1818040?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=terry+scott+niebeling
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