Good morning everyone. We’ve reached Halloween Eve. Is everyone ready? We have candy for our three trick-or-treaters (and for my husband’s sweet tooth later), candles for the pumpkins, a spooky themed dinner with movie watching snack selection (yes I am making hot dog mummies for dinner but I am using high end sausages) and a selection of horror movies to watch well into the night. So all is set at our place. But we aren’t there yet. One more day until Halloween. So let’s start it off right with a writing prompt. Timers set and off we go.
I like this. It leans a little Rear Window-esqe but I could twist it some other way I expect. For now, I like the start.
Thursday, October 30th: It had a flashing red light.
It had a flashing red light. Ethan was certain it was so it could be seen from a distance, which was why he was seeing it, but there was something ominous about it.
‘Maybe it is just red lights meaning stop or danger,’ he thought. He watched the light blink slowly on and off. He counted in his head. Red light on. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi,” he mouthed the words under his breath. The light went off and he began again. Three counts again and it switched back on.
Ethan marked a line on the page, counting the number of rotations. Finally after thirty on off flashes, the red light went off. He checked the time and marked it down. With the light off, Ethan rolled his chair to his desk, taking his tally count with him and being careful not to slam his cast into anything along the way.
The red light flashing started three months prior. Always it was the same. Each Tuesday night, one hour after the sun went down the red light would click on. It flashed on and off three seconds each go for thirty rounds and then switched off for the night. The light would then remain off until the following Tuesday.
Ethan was certain he only noticed it because he was, for the moment house bound. Three months prior he not only broke his leg but smashed many of the bones in his foot. The fracture started to heal, then there was an infection. It was clearing up but it slowed down his healing considerably. He was on the down slope now and ready for the cast to come off. If his appointment went well on Thursday that day might be soon.
For now he picked up the back scratcher and carefully inserted it into the top of the cast, scratching the one small itch on his leg. When it was satisfied he extracted it and lay it on the desk beside his notebook.
At this time of night people were eating dinner or watching television or even possibly going out some place. It was a Tuesday so those going out were few and far between. Ethan’s schedule was completely random at this point. He tried to navigate the stairs as little as possible. He went downstairs for breakfast, more to feel normal than anything else. He then did everything required of him on the first floor or even out of the house. Items were dropped off, mail was gathered, occasionally a visitor was greeted. By noon he was generally done with everything and everyone for the day. He ate a large lunch and gathered snacks to take upstairs and serve as dinner before he once again ascended the stairs.
The stairs cause some pain and even when the pain died back he found himself sweating and in a foul mood by the time he reached he second floor. He was in no fit state for company. He retired to his study, which by some strange architectural quick was large enough to have windows on three sides of the house. If anyone came to the door he could go to a window and yell down to them if need be. Most knew his schedule now so the need was rare. Because of the windows and the fact that he was upstairs at the time, he could see the red light.
Ten til Midnight 