Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Wednesday Morning

10:07 AM : English class, unfocused. The Professor just said "aesthetically gay" for the 73rd time this semester.

9:57 AM : Walking to class. Heart racing and not from my briskness. Call my sister Valerie, the Harry Potter freak, to tell her about my basilisk situation. Straight to voicemail.

9:55 AM : Park. Black 5. Decide to bring my book to class though unweildy and likely unnecessary. Disembark. Lock car.

Realize he is in the walls.

Picture my room. Picture the open cabinet. The one on the floor. The one that houses the water heater. The one that leads into the pipes.

9:39 AM : Leave for school. M&M's forbreakfast. Key got stuck so I didn't lock the door. That's not like me. My mind is elsewhere.

9:24 AM : Struggle to pull myself together. Emotionally, physically, and otherwise.

9:21 AM : Oh my god. He's not in his tank. Check the lid. It's loose. He's finally done it. Oh my god. He's loose in my room. Scan wildly. Many times.

9:11 AM : Decide to get up. Remember I have to leave at 9:30, not wake up at 9:30. Unset remaining alarms. Rise gracelessly.

9:10 AM : Reset alarm for 9:17

9:05 AM : Backup alarm sounds. Dismissed.

9:00 AM : Alarm #2 sounds. Dismissed.

8:55 AM : Alarm clock sounds. I tap to ignore.

1:52 AM : I cant' sleep. This is weird. This never happens. My Chopin playlist is on it's second run already.

12:41 AM : Something's wrong. I hear noises. Something sounds like movement and yet the room is still. The sound comes from above and behind me. In the walls. In the ceiling. I am at unease. Try to forget. Restart the playlist. I leave my light on. Turn over. Try not to think. Figure it's probably just the snake.


10:33 AM : Still in english class. For many more minutes. 42 of them, in fact. Kenne has her head down; she suffers from migraine headaches. Professor Mufasa is still talking, fervently, without interruption, "I was experimenting with my life you know my dad kicked me out said if I were to live with him I had to live by his rules I said GoodBYE. Who am I? I am nobody. Nobody and something...."
I've become strangely relaxed with my bedchamber of secrets, the only animal I've ever truly loved lost within the walls or plumbing...It is too poetic to not work out...dismally. Why, in Harry Potter, the basilisk hangs out in the walls and pipes for a tick and all that happens to him is he gets his eyes clawed out and stabbed in the throathead.

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