Peripheral Vision: A Supernatural Thriller(4)

“Where are your shoes, Sarah?” The woman asked without turning her head.

“I'm not sure.”

“Did you lose them again? Can't you stop losing them?”

“I, I...” For the first time Sarah was afraid.

“I think I saw them by the piano, little one.” The woman turned towards her now. She was strikingly beautiful and smiling, but her blue eyes told a different story, a painful story.

“Okay, thank you,” Sarah managed to speak. She tried to smile in response as well, but realized that she was now weeping. The beautiful woman was fading out on the edges, just like the grey that lay past the trees and the streetlamp. But her face was becoming clearer, more in focus, and familiar.

“Mommy?!” Sarah sobbed, the tears were now coming in torrents.

“Sarah, shhh...time slips now. You must be quick. Your shoes...”

“I miss you, Mommy!” Sarah cried as she ran across the porch towards her mother. But it was as if the porch was growing and the swing moved further away from her. She couldn't close the distance, even as her legs moved faster.

“Sarah, everything is slippy now. She knows you're here. She knows you see!”

Sarah's mother was now shouting, but it was if her words were drowning or being sucked down a drain. The beautiful woman that once sat on the porch swing was now almost completely faded away into a swirling grey shimmer.

Sarah shouted, “Mommy, I love you!” But it was too late.

The woman was gone and all that remained was the moving porch swing, which now was incredibly too close. Sarah tried to stop, but her legs didn't quite get the message in time and she soon found herself slamming painfully into the side of the swing, and then flipping through the air. She floated in the breeze just long enough to glance-albeit upside down-through the window behind the porch swing. The piano, she thought, and then she crashed. The landing, however, was far softer than what she had braced herself for. Someone had planted a very full flower garden around the edge of the porch and it broke Sarah's fall.

She lay there for a moment, catching her breath, and calculating her injuries. Nothing seemed to be broken. Bruised, yes, but it could have been worse, much worse. The smell of the yellow flowers was comforting after the brief encounter with her long dead mother. How long had it been? Twenty, no, twenty-five years? The sound of the piano pulled her out of her thoughts, and thrust her back into her present reality. Time to get moving. Sarah climbed out of the flowerbed, and up onto the porch.

The music seemed to be getting louder now. The porch swing hung in front of a large window and to the left of the window, was a windowless door to the house. She knocked, thought about it again, and then turned the doorknob. The door opened up, revealing a small room, possibly the family room, with two recliners along the left wall and a sofa along the right. An ugly, knitted, orange and brown afghan was thrown over the back of the sofa. She stepped further inside the room, all the while taking in her surroundings.

A tick-tocking sound echoed out from behind her. A large grandfather clock sat against the wall by the open door. She watched it for a moment, almost hypnotized, everything was so familiar. Again she turned back towards the sound of the piano and walked past the sofa through a narrow archway and another room. There, in the middle of the room, was the piano. It was of the stand-up variety, which was a bit odd, being in the middle of the room, but also because of the height of the thing. In fact, it was impossible to see over the instrument, as the ceiling and the top of the piano were only inches apart. Sarah was scared. Something was wrong here. The air was too thin. It made it hard to think, to breathe. Still, her mother, had said something about, about... What was it? What had she said? Her mind went blank, almost as if the music was leading her away from the answer. Follow me. It seemed to sing to her. Follow me through the trees. Through the trees, come follow me.

All at once, Sarah felt as if she was going to faint. The little butterfly lights began to spin around her eyes, and she dropped down to her bare knees. Tears were once again streaming from her eyes and the piano music seemed to be playing much too fast. The music was speeding up, faster and faster, and with it, the words follow me, come with me, through the trees, follow me. The butterfly lights were speeding up with the music. Faster and faster and faster, it was all moving too fast, and the air, oh, the dry, thin air, was spitting out false answers and false names. And then, Sarah saw them. Setting on the floor by the left side of the piano were her small pink tennis shoes.

“The shoes!” Sarah cried out, as she dove from her knees to the pair of tennis shoes and wrapped them up like a fumbled football.

The music stopped. The singing stopped. Calmness and clarity seemed to unwrap itself in the room. With her mother's words now on the front of her mind, she pulled loose the laces and slipped on her shoes. They almost immediately made her feel somehow safe, and strong all at the same time. Composing herself, Sarah stood up and walked around to the other side of the piano. The piano bench, as she expected, was empty. What she hadn't expected and what made her realize that it was time to get out of this house were the crimson fingerprints on the ivory keys.

For a moment, Sarah just couldn't look away, and her eyes took in the blood trail that led from the keys, to the sheet music, to the long stemmed wine glass that sat on the edge of the piano bench. The next thing she knew she was running. Her shoes seemed to glide over the wood floor without even making contact. She was fast now, and was already out the front door and leaving the small house with the porch swing in her past. She ran and ran and ran, never once turning back. Down the gravel driveway she ran and past the streetlamp. Suddenly, she realized that things had changed again. The grey “boundary” now seemed further away than before, and in its place, on the outside of the outline, was a forest. Come with me through the trees... Her mind slipped back to before. Everything is slippy, Sarah.