Strangers in the Night

Up until dawn crept across the sky; I was a small child the last time I watched the sun come up over the bayou: the delicate darkness of the sky painted with swatches of glorious violent smears of red and gold, as the sun rose in a blazing wash of fiery orange.
As the sun began to rise, already hot and near-unbearable, I pulled down the shades, drew the curtains and went to sleep.

I didn't intend to stay up all night... After my shift at work, I and some other people from work walked down to a bar near the coffeehouse for a few beers. John (see previous post!) came with us, and we sat beside each other, having our own private conversation as the others talked and laughed, their words becoming louder and more boisterous as the empty beer bottles piled up on the sticky table.

As we talked about all the things we liked--movies music, books, hobbies--I was surprised at how much we had in common. After four expensive, stout beers, I was buzzing and giddy with alcohol and adrenaline and hormones, and I knew I needed to slow down if I was going to drive home. The bar was getting too noisy and smoky and crowded, and through the beer haze, I could still pick up on people's feelings. Kellie, for instance: I could feel her hate and anger for me.

She has a huge crush on John, hell most of the girls do, and she had pretty much marked him as "hers" from the moment he was hired. But I knew he had no interest in her, which was confusing, because she is very pretty, albeit shallow and mean. What really confused me was why he was interested in me. I could feel his guilt over it, because of his girlfriend, but there is this connection and pull between us, and it's like nothing else matters.

Anyway, he asked me to come over on Saturday night to watch a movie, an "we're just friends and coworkers" invitation, and I said, sure why not.

It was getting late, so I said goodnight to everyone since I was getting drunk. John paid for my beers and walked me to my car.

As I was getting into my car, I could feel that he wanted to say or do something to prolong the moment, but he didn't, and I was too stubborn to say anything either, so we simply said goodnight and I drove away, not looking forward to the long drive on the dark road, cautiously looking out for those New Orleans drunk drivers.

I was so wound up when I got home; I drank some water and popped two Tylenol. I got undressed, washed my face, and changed into my gauzy white chemise, so light and comfy and cool.

I sat on the wide front porch, smoking a cigarette, and I searched for something to take my mind off John.

The girl's body that was found has still not been identified, or the police are not releasing the information. They questioned me about how I had found her, and that took all night, what with all the milling around and questions. I told them the truth, and the detective said he would be in touch if and when they needed me again. My mom was upset and worried for me, and my dad has hired some security people to patrol our property occasionally. So, I eventually started to feel pretty safe, what with my brothers huddling around me protectively.

I put on some flip-flops and walked down to the little house where she was found.

I relished the smells and sounds all around me; the night was alive, and the moon bathed the world with its bright silvery glow. I've always loved the night, and my body is so much more alive and aware than in the daytime.

I twirled and spun around like a wild wood nymph, intoxicated from the moonlight and magic. I wanted to be naked and roll in the moist grass, as steam rose from the ground, creating a fairy mist.

I lay under the huge oak tress, looking at the gray Spanish moss hanging from the branches like witches' mossy hair. I took off the short thin gown, and I laughed, deliciously naked and belonging to the night and the trees and grass and bayou. Images of pagan altars, and dripping thick woods where trees were worshiped and orgies were held under the full moon; wicked thoughts of him on top of me, sweaty and hard, sliding deep and sweet...

I moaned with ecstasy, adding soft cries and moans with the night sounds: a mad chorus of lust and whispers and abandon.

A noise tore me out of my fantasy; I sat up and dressed. I knew I had heard something, coming from the direction of the abandoned Cajun house where the girl was found dead.

I was terrified suddenly; something deep inside me was telling me to run, that whoever was there was dangerous--and had been watching me.

I ran barefoot, gripping my shoes in my hand. I prayed I wouldn't trip and fall, like those dumb unfortunate women in the horror movies. I heard footsteps behind me, quickly closing the distance.

I saw the light of our porch and gasped with relief as I saw my brother pulling into the gravel driveway. I stood trying to catch my breath, standing out of my brother's line of sight under the trees. I didn't hear anything; whoever had been there was gone.

I decided not to call the police, after all, what could be done?

I know that I have to figure out who this girl was, and why that person wanted to come after me. I could feel...something. Not anything like a normal person, but more like a presence of nothingness, as if he was just a shell devoid of feelings of love and hate. Blank.

I showered, letting the cool water beat down my neck and back; even after I had crawled under my soft sheets, I couldn't find sleep. Too much had happened, and I was still worked up, so I read a book until dawn peeped out of the dark sky.

I got about nine hours of sleep, so I feel much better. I have to go: I'm working tonight, and the last thing I need is to be alone with my thoughts.

Still, I told my dad that I thought I heard someone snooping around last night; I don't want my family to get hurt, and he knows people who can keep a collective eye on things.

I'm off...