Fear Dreams by Schneider J. A

Author:Schneider, J. A. [Schneider, J. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, Mystery, Suspense, Crime
Amazon: B01CRD2A1E
Goodreads: 30073864
Publisher: RGS Media
Published: 2016-03-28T07:00:00+00:00

28

She went to work. Forced herself like a nervous engine to finish the woman-in-rain watercolor - the easier job - and emailed the publisher that it was ready. Next she opened the window top to let out turpentine fumes, and sat on the tall stool to work on the Rawlie oil painting. Princess Whatsername’s blue toga needed a thin, translucent glaze; in a rush Liddy mixed her palette’s squeezed blob of cobalt blue with too much turpentine, made a smeary mess, lost patience and in a jerky movement knocked over her can full of brushes. Dammit, dammit! To cover the birch floor, they had ironically wound up putting down the same old tarp from the old apartment.

Good thing, because she’d also spilled some turpentine. Cursing, she knelt to clean.

Then went back to tackle the blue toga and finished Rawlie’s post-apocalyptic light spear. She spent hours in a fervor, then packed it in, pulled the window’s top sash closed and locked it, pushed Rawlie on his easel back into the corner, and went to shower again, knowing she reeked of turpentine.

She raised her face into the steaming downpour, feeling the warm, sedative pounding on her closed eyelids, her aching neck and shoulders. Her shampoo was lavender-scented and she scrubbed the soapy froth, replacing the turp smell with the intoxicating aroma of the sweetest herb on earth. It made her think of lavender fields in France - wide, stretching expanses of clearest blue leading up to old castles. Nice. The gloom that had dogged her all day was starting to ease.

Turning off the water, she looked over to the glass though she’d promised herself she wouldn’t. What was to fear? She’d showered this morning and there was nothing there.

She blinked. Her breath stopped in her throat.

There, right next to her at shoulder level, was the word Help. It looked written as if with a trembling finger and stayed there, not running down with the other droplets.

A quiet groan, almost of pain, escaped her lips. Involuntarily she backed up a step, shutting her eyes tight, opening them again.

It was still there.

Her head thudded crazily as she reached out to touch it, then pulled her hand back fast; reached hysterically up for a sponge and wiped the word away.

It stayed gone, but she still stood there, naked and shaking, feeling the dry rasp of her breath in her throat. She began to make a whining sound, unaware that she was making any sound at all.

“I WILL NOT BELIEVE THIS. NO…NOT HAPPENING…”

With a crazed, jerky movement she got out of the shower stall, slammed the door, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her, tight, tighter, as if the towel could somehow hold her together. She stood like that for long, trembling moments, dread building until she could stand it no longer. She reached and yanked the shower door open again; looked in.

The Help was still gone, replaced by wild smears of soapy lather. Her eyes darted to the faucet, making dripping sounds that seemed abnormally loud.

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