Time To Go
Andrew had never felt so tired. His bones ached, his head was pounding and his muscles were sore. Through half slits, he looked at his alarm clock. In the dark, it looked like he was looking at a bunch of jumbled up numbers. Andrew groaned as he fell back onto his bed, savoring the feel of his cold sheets on his sweaty back. He was about to close his eyes, sleep taking over him quickly, when a knock suddenly came at his door. He sat up, his back straining, making him wince. "I gotta stop working these late shifts all the time," he whispered in the dark. For a moment, he expected someone to answer him back, but after a few seconds of silence he knew no one was there. He slowly got up and shuffled to the door. He looked through the peephole to see who had knocked and saw nothing. He opened the door and stuck his head out, looking left, then right, then left again. Finally, after listening hard and only hearing the wind whistle in his ears, he closed the door, securely locked it, and walked back to his room. "Maybe they had the wrong house," he muttered to himself. He climbed under the sheets and let out a long sigh. Once again, he was about to fall asleep when another knock came at his door. Andrew grit his teeth. "OK, this is getting a little annoying."
The noise seemed to be getting closer so Andrew flipped the 'on' switch and light flooded the front yard once again. Almost instantly, the breathing stopped. Andrew was shaking by this time. He could feel tiny droplets of sweat running down his face. That . . . is . . .no . . . animal he thought, taking the flashlight and pointing it to a nearby tree. No animal breathes like that, not any kind of animal that I've ever heard of anyhow. He waited a few more moments to see if the breathing would start up again. He waited. And waited. And waited. Until finally, his body was
screaming to get some sleep. Stifling a yawn, he turned toward the house, switching off
the flashlight once more. When he got inside, he locked the door and went to bed, Andrew's last thoughts as sleep caught up with him was "It was
just my imagination," The next morning Andrew piled out of bed and stood in front of his bathroom mirror. His hair was standing straight up on top of his head, his face had imprints of lines in them, he guessed that during the middle of the night he had slept on his arm. As he stared at his reflection at both of his eyes, he noticed that they were a bit red. So red in fact that it scared him a little to look at them. What in the world is going on? he thought as he continued to look at his blood red eyes. He tried rubbing them, thinking it was because of the light above him but when he stopped and looked again, they looked even redder than before. Then he knew something was wrong. He stepped away from the mirror, feeling scared and confused. "What I just saw CANNOT be real," he said, running his fingers through his hair. Or can it? He was scared to go back to look so instead he took a shower. After he was finished and had dressed, he grabbed his keys and got
in his car and went to work, determined not to let what he THOUGHT he heard last
night and what he thought he SAW disturb him. At work, Andrew tried concentrating on his work and found that he couldn't. He didn't have to have anyone tell him why. He knew why. With a frustrated growl, he stomped downstairs to the break room where he decided he could figure out just what was going on if he had a little piece and quiet. It was way too noisy in here with all the machines running at different speeds. Down at the break room, he saw that there were only a few people sitting at the tables smoking their cigarettes and getting things from the snack and pop machines. He sat down at the very end of one of the tables. All of a sudden, he thought he could hear breathing. He looked across the tables at the workers sitting down. He frowned. "That can't be," he said, looking around to see if anyone was behind him. "No one is near enough for me to hear them breathing, but yet I hear someone breathing as if they're right next to me." The breathing got louder and soon it sounded as if it was right in Andrew's head. "Time to go...Andrew, no time to waste, you don't have to run, there is no haste." Andrew jumped out of his seat. Andrew's eyes got as wide as saucers. "Who said that?" A few coworkers had started to look at him strangely but he didn't seem to notice. He looked around the room to see where the voice had come from. That's when he heard a little chuckle come from somewhere behind
him. He looked and didn't see anyone. "Time to go Andrew, no time to waste, you don't have to run, there is no haste," it repeated. This time it was louder and the voice sounded angry. Andrew ran out of the break room and out to his car. He tried putting his keys into the ignition and found that his hands were shaking too hard. He willed himself to calm down, slowly put the key into the ignition, put the automatic in drive and squealed out of the parking lot. "Time to go Andrew, there's no reason to be fast, you better slow down or this drive will be your last." It sounded like it was right next to him. He looked slowly at the passenger's seat, expecting it to be empty of course, but when he saw that it wasn't, it scared him. There, sitting right next to him, grinning at him was the Grim Reaper himself. The cloak that was around it covered it in blackness. Its face was nothing but a skeleton; its eyes were gone, leaving Andrew to stare at two empty eye sockets. Andrew peered inside of its empty eyes and saw that deep down inside of it, there was a reddish glow. He turned back around and looked at his speedometer and saw
that he was going well over ninety miles an hour. Andrew looked back to see if there were
any policemen around. There was none to be seen. "Get out of my car!!!" Andrew screamed at the Grim Reaper. "You don't belong here, you got the wrong guy, you got the wrong guy!!!" The Grim Reaper continued to grin at him. Slowly, the Reaper turned its head to the speedometer and again replied, "Time to go Andrew, there's no reason to be fast, you better slow down or this drive will be your last." Andrew paid no attention to the Reaper. I am NOT going to die today! Andrew thought frantically. He's got the wrong guy, I don't know who set him up to meet me here but I wish he'd go away! Andrew could see that the Reaper was staring straight at him. The Reaper gave a dry laugh that sounded like nails scratching on a chalkboard. "Time to go Andrew, there's no reason to be fast,
you better slow down or this drive will be your last." Andrew floored the gas, making the engine grind hard. "I'M NOT LISTENING TO YOU!! I'M NOT GOING TO DIE TODAY! IT IS NOT MY TIME, SO PLEASE JUST GO THE HELL AWAY!!!" The Reaper slowly shook its head and replied, "You better watch out, don't you see, Andrew, you're about to hit a. . ." But the Reaper never got to finish his sentence. Andrew let out a scream as a big oak tree appeared; he tried slamming on his brakes and found that they wouldn't stop. He pumped hard on the brakes. But it was too late. The car slammed into the tree, splitting the car in half, glass shattered and fell inside of the car. The passenger's seat disintegrated into a ball of cotton and fabric. Andrew's chest was crushed into the steering wheel, his head hitting the base of the tree, splitting it open, revealing gray and pink matter, covering the steering wheel. And all through that, the Reaper's grin had never left its face. © 2002 Chauna W. |
Send all comments on
poetry and fiction to the writers, they'd love to hear from you, just click on their name
and send mail.
All Rights Reserved By The Author! If You Want To Use Something You See Here, Write Them
And Ask!
Last updated on 9-1-2002
©1995/2002 The
House Of Pain