Happy Fiction Wednesday! It's been a crazy busy day. I almost wasn't sure I would get this out!
If you haven't been following I have been writing the story Last September and posting a chapter every Wednesday. You can catch up by clicking on this link here or by going to the Last September tab on my blog!
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Wendi watched as the young girl sat crying in her kitchen. She wished she had more then a cup of calamine tea to offer her. The poor girl looked like she hadn't slept in months, she probably hadn't slept since the last time she showed up on her front porch.
"Can you tell me about that night?" the girl asked in a quiet sad voice. She stopped to take her first sip of tea, "Can you tell me what you remember?"
Wendi figured that's why she was here. She needed some type of closure. That night was etched on her mind and it often haunted her dreams, she could only imagine what the girl was going through.
"It was 11:36 that night," Wendi started. "Harry, that's my boy, was up crying for the third time that night. I remember the time because I was looking right at that clock," she pointed to the cuckoo-clock on the kitchen wall, "when there was a knock on the door." She paused and cleared her throat.
"When I got to the door you were a tangled mess, at first I wasn't sure what you were. There was mud and twigs and blood everywhere. Your wet dirty hair was covering most of your face and you were shaking like a leaf.
Then you started to talk. You were in a panic, slurring your words. I couldn't hardly make out what you were saying. I thought I heard you say police and maybe something about an Amy. Then you collapsed. I just barely caught you. You seemed so far gone I wasn't sure you were going to make it." Wendi's eyes started to tear up at the thought of this strange girl dying in her arms. This thought was were the nightmares came from.
"I dragged you into the house and laid you on the couch. I check to see if you were breathing and I called the police. They came and asked a lot of questions and eventually took you away in an ambulance." Wendi sighed loudly as her story came to a close. "That's it, that's all that happened."
Her story felt rehearsed. She had told the police the same story over and over about a hundred times. It was always the same. Except for this time. This time Wendi left a few of the details out. Like the fact the girl's eyes were wild and crazed when she first arrived or the fact when she tried to pull the girl in the house she started screaming and clawing at Wendi. The scratches were so deep Wendi still had the scars on her arms. She didn't think there was any point in troubling the girl more than necessary with these little details.
"Thank you," the girl sighed as she finished the last sip of her tea, "for humoring me and for the tea. If you remember anything else please call me." She handed Wendi a yellow post-it with a phone number and walked past her out of the kitchen to the front door.
Just as she was opening the red door and stepping outside Wendi called out, "Wait!" the girl turned to look at Wendi, "there was one more thing, I didn't remember until now, but when you collapsed I could have sworn I heard you say something about a Rebecca."