“Cleo!” Gooway said in a tone that one might use to get attention of their pet. “Come with me,” he started walking towards a nearby bench. Cleo ran to catch up with him.
The song continued, “Holy Ghost who haunts your home. They don't know you like I know you. Call me Mr. Rattlebone.”
They sat down. “Cleo,” Master Gooway said, staring into the souls of her eyes, “Do you have a phone and earbuds?”
“U-uh yeah?” Cleo took the stuff out of her pocket and gave them to Gooway.
“That other song was bad,” Gooway said as he pulled up a song and offered Cleo an earbud.
They calmly sat and listened to XXXTentacion’s words echo in their ears, “You decide, if you're ever gonna let me know, yeah. Suicide, if you ever try to let go, uh. I'm sad and low, yeah, I'm sad I know, yeah.”
Though he tried to reassure me, Master Gooway was wrong. Yes, we did eventually get out of the
ReplyDeleteelevator, but no one came to help us.
After hours of sitting, conversing here and there, and becoming more and more restless by the minute,
the cold sneakily slithered under the crack of the elevator doors, our warm breaths quickly turning to
condensation, finally pushing us to our breaking points.
In an attempt to force open the doors, Master Gooway placed his hands between them, getting them
mostly open when they suddenly snapped shut on his hands, doing enough damage to severely cut his
hands, but not break the bones in them.
Many failed attempts later and the sight of the city blinded us as our eyes readjusted to the light of the
snow-capped disaster.
My eyes glazed over over-turned cars, crumbling buildings, scattered branches, and wounded
community members.
Master Gooway and I quickly realized we were lucky to have been stuck in that elevator, or we may have
suffered more than darkness and a few cuts.
“I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it,” I said. There was no way a simple snowstorm could’ve done this
much damage.
Suddenly I remembered my apartment, the many windows that were scattered around it, and the wall of faces.
“This is too much,” I heard Master Gooway remark as I re-entered the building.
I bolted up the stairs and flung my door open.
All of the windows had been shattered and the once clearly organized wall of faces, and clues of Mr. Evan’s
death were ruined.
I dropped to my knees and sank into the damp mess of photos, descriptions, newspaper clippings, and notes
from the crime scene.
An immense sadness overtook me, something I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time. Tears streamed down
my face and I balled up globs of soggy paper in my hands, flinging the distorted faces and memories of the
people I had met across my apartment.
Something was seriously wrong with this town. Things were always getting destroyed, people were always
dying or getting hurt, and it felt like a curse constantly weighed down on us.
I shakily stood to peer through the shards and an eery breeze accompanied with a whisper of a voice sent
shivers up my spine.
“Call me Mr. Rattlebone. Holy Ghost who haunts your home. They don't know you like I know you. Call me
Mr. Rattlebone.”
Alright Mr. Rattlebone, bring it on.