Tales of the Storage Space, Part 52

Jennifer’s kitten.  Judy.  Jennifer came to screaming, telling herself over and over again that she’d never had a twin sister named Judy.  But something was wrong; she couldn’t make so much as a single sound.  A big hand was clamped over her mouth.  Then she realized that it was the homeless woman who was screaming.

A man whispered in Jennifer’s ear, “Count to ten slowly.  Then go ahead and yell at the top of your lungs.”  The hand left her mouth.  She heard some kind of motion behind her.  Of course she had no intention of following his directions.  Why should she bother counting to ten slowly just because some idiot told her to?  But her headache pounded and it took a moment to catch her breath.  Then she opened her eyes.

In front of her the not-homeless man Alex had his fingers wrapped tightly around the homeless woman’s throat.  She wasn’t screaming any more.

Jennifer yelled at the top of her lungs.

Alex dropped the homeless woman and wheeled around to look at her, eyes widening.

She was very sorry that she’d made so much as a single sound.

“How could I?  How could I have forgotten about you?”  Alex’ voice wasn’t the same as the voice that had whispered in her ear.  He was closing the distance between them, babbling something about how Jennifer was just like some bird, but she didn’t know what that meant and wasn’t listening anymore.  She was thinking about blond hair, chiseled cheekbones, and piercing green eyes.  Who had told her to count to ten slowly?

She turned away from Alex to look behind her.  Nobody was there.  All that was there was the ratty old oriental rug she was lying on, with some kind of big stain on it…maybe red wine.  Nobody had told her to count to ten slowly.

Blond hair, chiseled cheekbones, piercing green eyes…  Bird…  Birds singing beautifully.  What was that…song of some kind?…going through her mind?  Whose laughter was that?

But there was no man with blond hair, chiseled cheekbones, and piercing green eyes.  Just like there was no…and had never been…evil twin Judy.  And besides, Jennifer’s eyes were closing again.

Tales of the Storage Space, Part 51

The Storage Space would have moaned…  No.  It stopped itself, reminding itself that it was done with any desire to be human.  So the Storage Space creaked with pleasure when Suzy Witherspoon leaped out of Karen’s storage unit and ran screaming over its ancient floorboards to her mother.

“Mommy, Mommy, a lady in a little room said really, really mean things to me!”

“She did?  Really, Suzy Q?”

“Yes, Mommy.  Really!  Over there.”  That rude, odious child actually pointed.

The Storage Space heard Karen think “uh oh” and agreed with her.

“She said really mean things to you for no reason?”

“No reason, Mommy.  No reason at all.  I didn’t do anything.  I just jumped into her little room…”

“To hide from me yet again, Suzy Q?”

“No, Mommy, no!  I was just…um…tired.”

Mother Witherspoon put her hands on her hips.  “Tired, eh?  So why, pray tell, would you ‘jump’ into a storage unit if you were tired?”

“Really, Mommy, really!  I just jumped in because the mean lady…only I didn’t know she was mean then…and a man were sleeping there so I…um…thought it was the place to go if you needed a nap.  Mommy, that lady was really mean to me!  Right over there.  You should go scold her!”

The Storage Space stopped creaking with pleasure.  It could feel that Karen was holding her breath.

Mother Witherspoon took a step towards Karen’s storage unit, but then she stopped and turned back toward her daughter.  “I suppose I should really report any disreputable people sleeping, and heaven knows what all else, in a storage unit…and frightening a child.  But you did jump into the ‘mean’ lady’s unit, didn’t you?”

The Storage Space relaxed so suddenly that its southwestern corner, sinking gradually because of a deep underground stream no surveyor had ever spotted, dove a full half inch further into the ground.  But it could hear Karen’s thoughts:  What am I thinking?  I killed Irwin in self-defense!  I need help!

Mother Witherspoon was dragging Suzy Witherspoon to the front door.

Karen opened her mouth to call her back.

Like highlighting the heavy lever that had saved Karen’s life, the Storage Space felt it must, again, intervene.  It, after all, had the benefit of several centuries of memory.  So it flooded Karen with examples of justice miscarrying, particularly those that involved truthful pleas of self-defense resulting in death penalties.

But the matter was resolved when, just as Mother Witherspoon closed the door behind herself and the screeching Suzy, Karen passed out again.

Tales of the Storage Space, Part 50

Suzy didn’t want to do what Mommy said.  Daddy didn’t do what Mommy said.  So Suzy didn’t have to do what Mommy said either.

Mommy was no fun.  Mommy didn’t like it when Daddy brought home pretty ladies, who gave Suzy candy and laughed a lot.  So Suzy didn’t like Mommy.

Daddy was fun, even when he stumbled around, and his mouth smelled like the red stuff in funny glasses that Mommy wouldn’t let her drink.

“Suzy Q!  Where are you, Suzy Q?”

She giggled.  That was Mommy.  Mommy couldn’t find her in this funny, big ole building.  Mommy had told her to stay close, but Daddy never stayed close to Mommy, so why should she have to stay close to Mommy?  Besides, she had found a great hiding place.  Even if there were two grown-ups in it already.  One was a man, and the other was a lady, who had fewer clothes on than the pretty ladies Daddy brought home.  But they were both asleep.

“Suzy Q!  Where are you?”

Uh oh!  Mommy was getting closer!  She snuggled in closer to the sleeping man and lady.  One of them moved, so she put her finger to her lips, just like Daddy did when he was hiding from Mommy.

“Suzy Q, don’t you dare hide from me!”

She giggled again, just like Daddy giggled when Mommy said that to Daddy.

“Susan Witherspoon, I’m going to leave you in this fucking storage space if you don’t come out this minute!”

She giggled and giggled, snuggling up closer to the sleeping lady.  Except…the lady wasn’t sleeping anymore.  Instead she was staring at the man.  Suzy could see the lady’s eyes getting bigger and bigger.  Then she looked at Suzy.  At first Suzy thought she looked like a really nice lady, like one of the ladies Daddy brought home.  But then she started to look really scary mean and started whispering about how Suzy better get out of there or she’d do all kinds of really mean things to her.

Tales of the Storage Space, Part 49

“Ready for my anything?”

Karen struggled to regain consciousness, only vaguely remembering that she’d passed out while Irwin, who’d just spoken, finished cleaning up her cubicle.  But where was she now?  And what did he mean by his “anything”?  She felt she should know but didn’t remember, then felt herself drifting again…something about a summer’s day.

“Hmmmm?”

Irwin’s voice, followed by his laughter, woke her up again.  Startled, her hands jerked about, trying to get her bearings.  A scent wafted up whenever she hit the floor:  disinfectant.  Her hand hit the wall, then something sharp that had wedged a fist-sized hole between the wall and floor.  Her eyes fluttered open, but she couldn’t see anything, just a shine and fresh blood on her hand.  Must have been glass…

“Oh there’ll be a lot more blood.”

Karen, whose eyes had closed again, felt him lick the fresh blood off her hand.  Then she heard a long, satisfied sigh.  But she didn’t care.  Oddly, she was sure it was Frank, not Irwin, that was now on top of her.  And Frank’s whisper in her ear:  “Tell him to wait.  Tell him you have a surprise for him that’ll make it even better.  In one of your boxes.”

“What’d you say, bitch?  A surprise?”

She must have said something aloud.  Her boxes, what was in her boxes?  She felt some weight shift off her.

“Sexy lingerie for me to tear off?  Go ahead.  Get it.”

Shoved, her head hit something hard, but not as hard as the wall.  A box.  She opened her eyes.  Her hands fluttered over the box, trying to open it.  Frank whispered, “Not this box.  Friends Forever.  Box underneath.  This box doesn’t have anything.”

Anything?

Suddenly Karen was fully conscious, remembering what Irwin had done to her before.  Wide open, her eyes took in every detail of her storage unit.

If only a building…

Where did that thought come from?  No longer was she seeing her storage unit.  Instead, she was seeing what must have been the left-over riggings for an ancient stage below it.  A heavy lever was only visible because she wasn’t seeing where she’d just cut her hand on the glass that had wedged a gap between her storage unit’s wall and floor.

“Your best friend Marie, my…biggest mistake,” Frank whispered urgently.  “The box underneath!”

Karen’s storage unit reappeared.  She felt herself shoved from behind.

“Hurry up!”  Irwin snapped.

She thought it would kill her outright, but she pushed the top box aside with a great sweep of her arm.  It clattered on the metal floor, spilling its contents:  The small metal horse on wheels with almost all its paint chipped off that had been her grandfather’s.  Her parents’ high-school yearbook that Karen had dog-eared since her parents’ fatal car accident on the way to their high school reunion.

“Box underneath?” Irwin snarled.  “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Her grandfather.  Her parents.  Would they be there, waiting for her, wherever there was?

“No!” Frank seemed to yell in her ear.

“Where’s the fucking sexy lingerie?” Irwin asked, rifling through the box underneath.  “Fuck!”  He snatched a hand out, bleeding like Karen’s had been.  Then he pulled out a huge piece of the broken “friends forever” plaque with which she had hoped to preserve the memory of what had been the greatest friendship of her life, with Marie.  It was now a most efficient weapon, smooth on one side so he could hold it easily and wickedly jagged on the other.

Karen, seated in the cramped space, whimpered and scrambled backwards till she cut her hand again on the glass that had gotten wedged between the floor and the wall.

Irwin, on hands and knees, seemed to slither over the tiny space separating them, like a rat closing on its prey.  Beady eyes glittering in the gloom, he oozed over her grandfather’s metal horse, over her parents’ yearbook.  Then he reared back and smiled down at her.  “You didn’t play your cards quite right.”  He raised the broken plague as high as he could over her, touching the ceiling.

She squirmed, banging her back against the wall, cutting her hand yet again on the glass wedged there till her whole arm slid through the fist-sized gap it had made and she howled in pain.

Irwin laughed, jerking the jagged plague he held over her this way and that such that she kept wiggling about in different directions.

Karen imagined she heard Frank’s unremitting scream.  Even Irwin seemed to jump at it.  But she was starting to pass out again, no matter how hard she fought it.  Grandpa, she called silently.  DaddyMommy.

She knew she was losing consciousness and, with it, the last chance to save her life, when she imagined she saw a green hurricane swirling around Irwin’s head, seeming to obscure his vision as he tried to bat it away.  Her hand that had slipped between the wall and the floor flopped about a bit, like a dying fish, and came to rest on a fragment of what her caressing fingers could tell was a once-grand wooden carving, loose in the ancient abandoned spaces between the current floors.  If only she could escape to that space too.  She willed her soul, soon to be released from her body she was sure, to escape there, amidst the gracious elegance of a time long since gone.  Finally, she asked her imaginary playmate, the once-grand old building, if it would remember her.

Its answer seemed to be another vision of the left-over riggings for its ancient stage.

“Wake up, bitch!”

Irwin’s voice seemed so far away now, but she felt the slap.  Her eyes fluttered open, but she knew she was still imagining things when she still saw the green hurricane.  Irwin swatted it away from his eyes, but it returned with a vengeance.

Her hand flopped away from the wooden carving and she found her fingers closing around something heavy.

Another slap.

No.  It was a simple word, just one, that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside Karen.

A third slap.

Her eyes opened wide as she yanked her arm out of the gap, her hand gripping a heavy lever.  She heard a horrible concussion.  Then she felt her own head slip back against the wall, and there was blackness.  She saw and heard no more.