Someone or something grabs her by the ankles and drags her back down the hall.
A shiver skitters down my back, and my knitting gets faster as I watch her be taken into a bedroom by some invisible force. The door slams shut and then there’s just screaming and wet, munching noises, until blood slowly oozes out from underneath it.
I love the ending of this movie. It’s so satisfying, and it makes my skin crawl in the best way.
I set down the scarf I’m knitting, a matching one for the hat I made myself last year. My hands are already stiff from holding my needles, even with the larger rubber handles I got so they’d be more comfortable to grip.
When I flick off the TV and the chilling sounds of the horror movie, there’s only the wind howling outside. Tree branches click against the panes of the big bay window in my living room. A snowstorm must be rolling in, because the skies were a beautiful clear blue all day.
Cordelia curls up next to me on the couch. I scratch her behind her black ears, and she emits a satisfied purr. If I could purr, that’s the sound I’d be making right now, too. With the storm howling outside, a horror movie on TV, and my knitting in hand, I’m content.
An introvert’s paradise.Myparadise.
Standing on my feet at the skijoring competition all day yesterday did a number on my aching joints, and the time alone to recharge is welcome.
A gust of wind billows around my apartment above Thistle + Thorne, and the walls creak in response. It’s a noisy old historic building, so I almost don’t hear the soft knock on the door.
I can’t imagine who would be outside in this weather, so my pulse thrums in my ears as I rise to answer it. I open the tiny brass flap covering the peep hole, and my breathing becomes shallow.
Okay, so the movie might have left me a bit tense.
When I peer through the hole, there’s a distorted and stretched image of Jett in the hallway. My anxious nerves flutter in my gut, and I swear they feel like butterflies.
I quickly smooth my hair and look at myself in the mirror in my entryway to check for anything stuck in my teeth, or crumbs on my crewneck sweatshirt. I’m suddenly kicking myself for choosing my ‘silly goose on the loose’ sweatshirt, but here we are.
When I open the door, Jett stays where he is, leaning casually against the wall. A few snowflakes dust the tips of his chocolate brown hair. Despite the weather, all he’s wearing is a soft, black hoodie and grey sweatpants.
“Hey, Pops.”
The nickname the Landry’s gave me when I was younger has somehow stuck, and everyone else around me have picked it up, too. I’m so used to it boy now, but for some reason when Jett says it, it sends an electric zing down my spine.
“Jett,” I answer, still dumbfounded by the fact that he’s standing here, outside my apartment.
“Are you going to let me in, or..?” He asks, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
I open the door wider. “Uh, yeah. Of course, come on in.”
He’s freshly showered, and I catch a whiff of clean smelling shampoo as he skirts past me.
“Sorry to show up here unannounced, I uh…” Jett scrubs a hand in his hair and doesn’t meet my gaze. “I wanted to talk to you in person.”
“It’s no problem,” I answer, wondering what he could possibly want to talk tomeabout, as I hurriedly walk around my apartment and scan it for anything embarrassing I might have left out.
I never thought I’d be giving Jett Landry a peek at my personal space. Maybe it’s the fact that my apartment is only about six-hundred square feet, but he’s so…bigin here. Like his presence takes up every inch of space, and he commands the attention of every atom in the room.
Even my cat is intrigued by him, as she curls around his ankles, rubbing her black and white spotted face on his leg. He moves away from Cordelia every time she comes close, but she’s nothing if not persistent.
You can basically see everything from the door, but he’slooking around at my décor, at the various skulls, and bats, and witchy things.
“I think you’ve decorated for the wrong holiday, Pops,” he points out.
I tug my sleeves down over my hands and curl my fingers around the fabric.
“I love the holidays as much as anyone, but it’s Halloween all year in here.”
If I wasn’t already awkward enough, my cheeks heat when he stops at the shelf of crystals sitting in a glass bowl shaped like a skull.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re here, or…?” I ask, light and teasing, mirroring his tone from earlier.
