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After my shower, I looked at my feet, standing on the sheepskin bath-mat, locks of creamy white sheeps' hair curling around the edges of my feet like the ocean waves in Japanese paintings. I thought of trimming my toenails for a second, but decided that they could wait. They wouldn't poke through my socks or endanger my expensive nylons for another week. Mother tells me I should be glad to have fuzzy sweaters and dyed-blue stockings after The War. The War was ten years ago, and I was just a kid. Now everything about life seems so new and speeding into the future compared to then, including our house in the woods. The light bulb was on in the shower, but that didn’t shut the night out. I could feel the wind blowing through the branches of the trees outside so that they sounded like a dozen angry garden rakes. Oh, how Walt would love that one, since he watches all the horror movies. I knew the moon was out. They call it a Gibbous Moon. They–I mean, the human race. And I am… grudgingly, one of them. What else is out there in the woods at night? Most of the time, nothing but animals, my mind logically tells me. If anything, I am heads above the other girls in that I actually think logically. I am going to be a writer. I may even be a writer of films like the ones Walt watches! Horror shows! Yes, I had just been thinking about horror movies, and thinking, all of that gore and suspense is so phony… compared to what could really be horrible, creeping around outside of our house… or bodies. Only this little light bulb in the steamy bathroom made me feel safe. Was it my imagination or did my feet feel really big for a moment? How I wish I could call Walt. But that would be a big leap. And anyway, at ten at night, and anyway…I couldn't, just couldn’t call, thinking my mother would hear my footsteps and the very cranking of the phone dial and come lurking in the shadows to listen. |
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