DARK REALITY-A Horror Tale by Billie Sue Mosiman

Author:Billie Sue Mosiman [Mosiman, Billie Sue]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-01-30T18:30:00+00:00

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Today, two months since we buried Davey for the second time, I woke to find Millie missing from bed. I looked in the closet and her clothes were gone. I don't care. In fact, I'm relieved. If reality is slipping again, I hope she's not in it.

I got dressed for work feeling hungover. I have been imbibing too much. It's beginning to tell on me. That is the least of my worries.

Downstairs I look in the hall at the cabinet and it's not there. I sigh and sit down wearily on the bottom stair step. In place of the cabinet is an old chest, rectangular, with brass hinges. I don't want to look in it.

Instead, I make coffee, fill my travel mug and go outside to start the truck. It's almost Christmas and there's snow on the ground.

In the driveway is a maroon Chevy Suburban. I feel in my pants pocket and withdraw a key with an electronic lock-unlock beeper on the chain with it.

That's okay, I tell myself, thank you, world. The truck was old. I was hoping to get to trade it in anyway. The Suburban is a luxury boat and I enjoy it as I drive to work. When I enter the garage, Barney, the tire man, says to me, "Hey, Lane, the boss is always late, eh? We got it covered, though, you betcha. No ass wipe is slacking around here."

I stand still trying to think. Trying to make it all straight and logical, trying to make sense of it happening again. I am not a mechanic. I am the boss of the place. I either own it or I manage it. Will these changes go on forever? Am I the only one slipping between realities or does Barney do it, does Millie do it, do we all do it?

At lunch I eat at Big Boy Steaks. The burgers aren't half as good as Partners served, and they cost twice as much. After lunch, in my office filling out unfamiliar work forms, Millie comes by and says, "What are you going to do about being late with the child support?"

I look at her bug-eyed. "Well?" She has her hands on her hips. I don't know why I ever thought she was pretty.

"I'll...I'll handle it." Saying anything else is going to prolong this argument and disorient me to the point I'll just start gibbering and drooling.

"You better handle it, or your ass is mine, Mister. Do you think Davey and me can live on air?"

"Davey?" I felt a pain in my chest. I might be having a heart attack. Or the anxiety is so great it's going to give me one.

"Your son? You never paid him a minute's attention when we were married, what do I expect, right? Get that check to me by 5pm. Or you'll be sorry." Her high heels were expensive and her hair was long, shiny, and expertly cut. She gave me one last hard stare and left the office.

I put my head down on the desk and wondered what I was going to do.

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