Good morning everyone. Today is shaping up to be a much better day. Yesterday I was so tired that by noon I was falling asleep at my desk. As I had not spent an unduly sleepless night the night before, I think it might have been a reaction to the vaccine. Or allergies. Or some twisted combination of both. Either way I took an unexpected nap, then went to bed a little early and feel much better today. I have my fingers crossed that this was my only reaction. So now that I am not feeling like I was hit with a freight train out of sleepy town, let’s get to the morning writing prompt. Ready? Excellent.
You know, I think I may have a story I can use this scene in. Nice.
Thursday, March 18th: Light crept in around the edges.
Light crept in around the edges. It made the blocked out window seem to jump out in space as though it were a cube instead of a simple set of planks. The boards had been nailed over the window to prevent the glass from being smashed when the rest of the shop was boarded up. Whoever had done this window did a pretty poor job and not only did light manage to get through on three sides but the glass was broken.
‘Although you might not blame the boards for that,’ I thought as the glass was broken from the inside. I could see the shards of the glass panes littering the floorboards, pulling at the light from around the frame and reflecting it back.
Someone had been inside. I shivered, although I didn’t know why. It wasn’t like someone else was here, waiting. I just had an odd feeling today.
“The vandalism doesn’t seem to have made it past the lobby,”
I jumped at the sound of the voice. The realtor. Right. I smiled remembering his presence. He flashed a grin at me.
“Didn’t mean to spook you,” he sort of half-apologized.
“No problem,” I lied. “I was just wondering how many windows were broken and how much it would cost to replace. There are quite a lot of them.”
His smile winked out in the face of my seriousness. It always did when I mentioned that something might cost extra to deal with or that the property in question was not magnificently move in ready. The fact that nothing he had shown me was classified as move in ready did not dim his expectations of me finding it so.
‘Of course I didn’t ask for move in ready,’ I thought as he reminded me that the damage was confined. He still lived in hopes that I would find it so. I followed him out of the lobby and to the first set of stairs. Both of us ignored the elevator. Taped to its doors was a sign reading ‘out of order’ . It was a sign written in faded marker and welded to the front of the closed elevator doors with a layer of clear packing tape. Despite the dust clinging to it’s surface the thick marker, gray now instead of black, was still visible. Next to the handmade sign was a more official one from the city stating the same information with considerably more words and a date out of order was officially determined. The date was twelve years prior.
As he glanced at the dual signs I could see my realtors jaw clench. He said nothing and simply took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Once released he turned to me and smiled. “Upstairs or basement first?” he asked.
“Upstairs I think,” I said shivering at the thought of entering the basement. “We can finish with the basement.”
He nodded and we began climbing to the upper floor. I knew we would have to go down into the basement but something in me made me want to know the lay out of the building before we did. It was a stupid thought. I didn’t think we’d open the basement door and unleash a hoard of…well somethings…that we then had to escape. That was silly. But there was a smell easing out from under the basement door. I couldn’t identify it, yet the back of my brain, the primitive part, knew it wasn’t a good smell and warned me to have nothing to do with it.
Ten til Midnight 