Sunday, February 6, 2011

What Happened Friday Night

The Super Bowl is tonight, isn’t it? I’ve never been a football fan, but I always liked going to the parties. I used to be pretty social when I was younger. Then, well, stuff happened and I became a bit of a shut in. Which works well in my current situation. By the time I made the mistake of thinking I was just watching some scary videos, my former life of large groups and parties every weekend had been replaced by a small core group that would get completely frustrated with my refusal to go out to the clubs and bars with them, but still loved me enough to put up with it and come over to my place for dinner and dvds instead. I’ve been avoiding their phone calls, leaving noncommittal responses to text messages. I even pretended to not be home when they showed up at my door the other night. I know I’m doing the right thing. If anything happened to them because I’m caught up in a cosmic horror story, I don’t think I could keep going. But I miss them. 

So there’s the background for my story of what a moron I was Friday night. I was pretty miserable. Ava is the first friend I made on here and the idea that she was gone was killing me. And I had no one to turn to. I can’t call up my girlfriends or my family. Yes I have Lucien, but he was at work. I don’t even have my cats anymore. When it first showed up, I remembered all those stories about it killing people’s pets and I brought them to a cousin. Gave her an excuse about the recession making things hard and I would take them back when things were better financially, any lie to make sure my kitties would be safe. But this house seems so empty now. And after a little while I just couldn’t handle being alone here anymore. 

There’s a bar about three blocks away from me. Easy walking distance. I didn’t have to worry about taking the car and getting pulled over for driving with a few too many in me, but short enough that it wasn’t going to kill my knee and ribs. 

You guys don’t need the extreme details. I got drunk and there was a guy. I...shit I haven’t let a man touch me in three years. I’ve lived in this house by myself for two years. I just wanted to pretend I was a normal woman again. Not a shut in coward terrified that every man in existence is out to hurt me, not a possibly crazy witch trying to figure out how to combat a monster from another dimension. Just one freaking night, but it was apparently too much to even ask for that. 

So I invited him home and we were walking towards my house. We were about a block away when hey guess who the fuck showed up? There it was just hanging out in the middle of the sidewalk with its head tilted at that angle. I just hate looking at it, it’s not right! I swear if I stare at it long enough I’m going to lose whatever I might have left of my sanity, but how can you not look at it?

Anyway, I was extremely drunk. Drunk enough that I started screaming and yelling at the top of my lungs. Screaming about Ava and my brother and all these other people that are having their lives ruined. And my companion of course didn’t see it. Grabbed my arm and started demanding to know who I was yelling at, was I fucking nuts. When he grabbed me, I had a bit of a bad reaction.

I completely forgot about the eldritch abomination standing a few feet away from me. Instead I ducked my head against my chest and started crying and begging the guy not to hurt me. He dropped my arm, called me a crazy bitch, and walked off. After I pulled myself together, I realized that I was completely alone. It had disappeared, too. 

I walked the rest of the way home. No monster, no proxies. Got to my house with no problem. I just can’t figure out what the point of that was.


  1. *laughs* Yeah well I wasn't exactly looking for true love or a good conversation.

  2. Allow me to welcome you to a circle of people banding together with open arms.

  3. Thank you Thage. I can't say that it's a pleasure to be in this situation, but it is a pleasure to have found the people here.

  4. *rereads comments.*. . .Oh God I just got that. . .