Bloodlines - Part 3

The rest of the day was spent moving my things into the house. As I did, I became depressingly aware of how little furniture I had. The house wasn't very big, and yet it retained quite a large amount of empty space. In the master bedroom I put a small lamp, my dresser, cot, mattress, pillow and bedding. My computer, a small office chair that was little more than a stool on wheels with a back, and the bookshelf went into the room that would have been mine as a kid.

I quickly took to calling said room 'the Study', to give myself a little ego boost in the face of how dismal the empty space seemed. I'd grown up in a house that had stuff everywhere, and each thing had its own little story to go along with it. I'd never really lived on my own, so this was doubly a first for me. Not only was I alone, but nothing I had really had a history. Of course, yes, each thing had its own history in the sense that it had a past, but little of it had a special meaning to me. They were useful, but they didn't feel important beyond their actual use.

In the small living room went the thirty-inch flat screen I'd had in my room until I moved. It was on top of a desk that I'd found out back behind an elementary school a few weeks ago. They'd been throwing it out. It was one of the old sorts, level, with each leg adjustable, and completely disconnected from a chair. There was a small round hole cut in the bottom of the metal storage part where school supplies would have gone, which was perfect for me as it meant I could run the wires from my gaming system out through there rather than wrap them over the front. And yes, I put my console in that space underneath. I left it near the mouth so I could access it easily.

After that came a couple more lamps to go in the Study and the living room, as well as a folding lawn chair – yes, a lawn chair – that I put in the living room. Even I felt embarrassed as I looked at it there in front of the TV, but it was, admittedly, better than nothing. At least, that's what I told myself to make myself feel better about something so out of place. I elected, at that moment, to get at least a decent chair or two if I ever had company – and to put the lawn chair out on the porch as soon as I did.

Once that was all taken care of, I began bringing in all the boxes, stacking them initially in the living room, and putting off going through them until I had them all inside. Strange as it was, I was actually a bit disappointed that it didn't take me longer to bring all my things in. Sure, it was nice to be done hauling things, but at the same time, well, it just went to show how little I really had. When I began going through the books I began to realize that most of my possessions could be put into one of four categories: video games, movies, books, or clothing.

Upon realizing this, I quickly figured out how I would stow them until I got something better. The clothes I took to the bedroom. Boxes of books went into the Study. The video games and movies stayed right there in the living room; their boxes getting put over next to the desk and TV. With that out of the way, I found the box that was marked as 'kitchenware' and took it over to the kitchen, then did the same with the one marked 'microwave' and a smaller one marked 'flatware'. It was only as I began to put these things away that I realized I had no refrigerator or freezer. Then, on top of that, I realized I also didn't have anything to eat.

Blowing out a breath as I finished putting away the various things I did have for the kitchen, which mostly boiled down to cooking utensils, plastic cups, and flatware, I began to think that I might not have been so prepared for this as I had believed. I had a microwave, but no refrigerator. I had flatware and cups, but no plates, or even bowls. I had no food – period. I had pretty much remembered everything I thought I'd need, except some of the more important things for the kitchen. Shaking my head as I put the last of it away, I decided that I'd probably have a lot to do the next day.

The longer I stood there and thought about it, the longer the list seemed to grow. Things were getting added on that I hadn't even thought once about before I started getting ready to move. Proper chairs, a refrigerator, freezer, plates of some kind or other, bowls, a trash can, trash bags, a table of some sort for the living room, and, of course, food. Before anything else came to mind, I decided to sit down and write up a list. Which ended up being done on my phone when I realized that I also had neglected to bring along any kind of writing supplies. It was at that moment when I knew for certain that I hadn't thought my move through all the way. It was also when I added paper and pens to my list.

Once I had the list done, I went back to the kitchen and made sure everything was put away, then went around the house and arranged things. Clothes were put away, books were put up on the shelves, and my video games and movies were arranged in boxes so I could see the titles on each. When I was finally done with it all, I sat down on the lawn chair in the living room and looked around.

“First night in my new place,” I said softly to myself, “and I have nothing to do.”

I hadn't really thought about what I would be doing tonight. I didn't have cable, so watching TV was out. I didn't have internet, so anything involving that was out of the question. I thought about getting on my phone and using it for internet, but I didn't want to waste my data on simple boredom. Movies didn't particularly sound appealing at the time, and neither did the games I had. I stood up, and headed into the Study, looking over the books that I had on the shelves. One of which I had not read in at least five years. I read it for a book report when I was sixteen: Stephen King's 'Salem's Lot.

My teacher had not been particularly fond of my report, though grudgingly gave me an A on it. She had never been a big fan of the supernatural, but at the same time, I tended to do book reports on those books because I had never been a big fan of her. Next year I got along well with my English teacher – when I was seventeen, that teacher had enjoyed my papers. Unfortunately, she was a bit more strict with her grading.

I had just gone back out to the living room with my chosen book when my stomach growled. I looked at the book in my hand and set it down on the lawn chair, then grabbed my keys. I had no intention of spending the first night in my new place with an empty stomach. I decided to go do a bit of exploring in town and went for a drive. Halfway to town, I had essentially decided to try and find Michelangelo’s – the Italian place that Tom had told me about earlier. It took me nearly two hours of driving around to do, but I finally did.

Along the way, I passed some of the stores that I figured I'd need to go to. An appliance store, a market, a small department store, and all of them were around the same area. There were a few others around town too, but not very many – and none of them were from the large store chains. Every one of them was some local store, which was nice. Even most of the restaurants were just local places, save the ones that were closer to the highway. I stopped in at Michelangelo's and had a quick bite to eat, then went over to the appliance store and bought a refrigerator and freezer combination – one with the freezer on top of the fridge.

Food in my stomach, I drove home with my new fridge – deciding that the rest could wait until the next day. After all, I didn't need a trash can when I had nothing to throw away. As well, I mentally added a washing machine, drier, and hangers to my list of necessities. While I'd been at the store, I'd seen them and realized that they were another grouping I had neglected. I had also neglected any kind of hamper to put my clothes in, so I probably needed one of those too. The longer the list in my mind got, the more embarrassed I felt – and the more glad I became that I wasn't expecting any kind of company soon.

When I got back to the house, I backed the truck inside the garage and manhandled the fridge into the house and over to the kitchen. After hooking it up and moving it into its position against the wall, I closed up the garage and locked the house for the night. Once done, I went and grabbed 'Salem's Lot off the lawn chair in the living room and headed back to the bedroom. It wasn't until I got there that I realized I had yet to actually make my bed. I groaned at the thought of another menial task but got it over with soon enough. When done I changed into a pair of old, loose sweatpants and got under the covers; reading until I felt myself start to drift.

Folding over the upper corner of the page I was on, I closed the book and laid it down on the floor, scooting it under the cot so I wouldn't step on it in a daze the next morning. Then I reached up and turned off the lamp at the head of the bed, plunging the bedroom into darkness. Moments later, sleep claimed me. I slept soundly, deeply – the best sleep I'd had in a while, actually.

A few hours had passed before it happened. My eyes shot open wide when I felt something. A presence in the room. What I saw made me scream. There, standing just beyond the end of the cot, was a figure in a black hooded robe. Pale blue light shone out from under the hood, revealing the blood-red interior of the hood and arms of the robe. The material seemed to hang there, for the occupant of the cloth was nothing more than bleached bones. A skeleton, holding a scythe. I flailed about, falling off the cot and then scrambling, backing toward the wall and pressing my back against it as I panicked.

The reaper that stood before me made not a sound as it seemed to glide toward me. I felt no malevolence from it, but at the same time, I couldn't really focus on that. After all, I was face to face with the Grim Reaper. Just about anyone would probably be excused for freaking out. It aimed the scythe toward me, pressing the wooden tip against my upper lip, and then pushed upward as if inspecting my teeth. It tilted its head, and then backed away from me, bringing its scythe up to rest against its shoulder. For a few moments it seemed to watch me, and then vanished.

The moment that it seemed to cease to exist, the room plunged back into darkness. I fumbled, grabbing the lamp and pulling it down, then turning it on to have the light. I was panting, my heart beating rapidly in my chest – but as I looked around, there was nothing there. Just my barren bedroom, no scythe-wielding skeletons to be seen. My breathing began to return to normal, as did my heart rate. For the rest of the night, I sat there on the floor, my back to the wall, my arms wrapped around the lamp. I didn't dare try to go back to sleep.

Of course, sleep eventually overcame me, and I passed out at daybreak – as natural sunlight began to filter through the blinds on the bedroom window. The next time I woke up, I was groggy, and clinging to the lamp for dear life. Somehow, I suddenly felt rather foolish as I held that lamp. The night before it had comforted me. Now, with the house lit in the middle of the day, I realized just how little that lamp really would have helped me.

Standing, I put the lamp upright once more and walked out of the bedroom, through the house. Along the way, I looked into the bathrooms and the Study, just to make sure there was nothing there to surprise me. Satisfied, I sat on the lawn chair in the living room and put my hands over my face. Then, slowly my fingers slid up into my hair, my palms resting over my eyes before I ran my hands back fully. I couldn't figure out if the night before had been a dream, or real.

Part of me didn't want to know.