To the Best People... continued

Before you read, please note that the first part can be found on my profile. I highly reccomend you read the first, only because it is alluded to in this part; however, no one is forcing you :) Enjoy!

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Chapter 2

The plethora of carcinogens, or new car smell, brimmed my nostrils on the drive. The already lengthier trip felt eerily longer than usual. Thus, amongst the silence, I sat silently in my thoughts. I no longer felt emaciated. My mind seemed to roll through the footage of that morning. Playing through, and rewinding back to my rude awakening. As the footage played, the darkness of the scene seemed evermore present. The clouds outside subsided, temporarily, but rebirthed when we finally pulled into the driveway.

Ahhhh Grandma’s house—the house of homemade pizza and pasta, and occasionally the famous German chocolate cake recipe. Walking in, the same familiar aged kitchen presented itself lively. Memories of big family gatherings always met with great food; good memories. The same old ugly wooden floors remained, however. Regardless, the memories were vivid and pleasant.

Outside, the clouds cast a shadow among the kitchen. Our shadows elongated and swallowed by the impending darkness. The breeze rushing through the door, cold and uninviting.

My grandmother walked towards the stairs, “A.J., come up here a second with me.” I followed closely by, up the same old steep and creaky steps. The same steps which took my mom victim for a separated shoulder. At least she saved the camera.

Down below, I heard my brother and Grandpa walk into the living room. The TV was playing, probably a Sc-Fi—my grandfathers favorite. If the critics hated it, Grandpa loved it.

I followed my grandmother into the study, which conveniently had a bed inside. Always my goto place for sleepovers at Grandmas. The window unit allowed me to put the room to a near freezing point, or optimum sleeping temperature as I prefer to call it. A black bookshelf stood tall to the right of the doorway, my grandfather's various books and manuals on aviation lined the shelves. On the top, multiple photographs old and new leaned elegantly. All photos taken by my Grandmother or Mom; the photographers of the family. An old sepia colored picture of my Grandmother and Grandfather sat on the nightstand by the bed. The only time I’ve ever seen my grandfather with a full head of hair.

“Come sit next to me hon.”

The room seemed to go silent. The vibrant colors of the room turned dull. A cloud of doubt hovered over me. Something was seriously out of place. What is going on? The same chill traveled up my back, the same chill I got standing in the garage looking at my Dad. Darkness poured it’s way into my being, the same way it annexed the kitchen or covered, like a blanket, the scene at my house. Any life inside of me died—no not all; half. Like I was drained of substance but not all of my substance. I was there, but I wasn’t there. Like I transcended two alternate universes. One of which I stood here in my grandparent's study, cold, scared—meanwhile another laid still, sleeping, gaining back lost energy from that late night of gaming.

I sat next to my grandmother, outside the wind howled like wolves in the night. Peering out the small window above the nightstand, darkness consumed the land. The big tree swayed violently like it was protesting against the invading wind and impenetrable darkness. All protest was useless, its branches and leaves, its complete substance plunged to the ground. Immediately, with no hesitation, the wind swept it away. Robbing the once fruitful tree of its crux. She looked into my eyes, her eyes seemed to cower away. Like her thoughts, or an image brought fear into her perception. She sat hunched, the weight of her thoughts pushing down upon her. Her lips trembled as if they had something to say, but the words were stopped in their tracks. Intoxicated by the glimpse of fear.

Above, the light in the room seemed to dim. The darkness outside waited with no hesitation. With the wind, it poured into the room. Howling even more aggressively than before, nature embraced us, filled us. My grandmother began our conversation, but only after our hearts were filled with darkness.