Longest Night Of The Week Part 1

 

miraval_balcony_viewIt was the longest night of the week. Wednesday that is. Wednesday was the longest night of the week she decided. Monday was the longest day, with it’s inherent problems at work exhausting her so she fell instantly asleep when she lay down for the night.Tuesday was book club after work so, again, she fell asleep quickly at the end of the day. Thursday it was the gym, Friday drinks with friends and, of course, the weekend was chores, errands and the promise that she would relax next weekend.  Wednesday, Hump Day. Wednesday she had time to think.

Think she did. Of many things. She thought of her family. Her mother was a go-getter, a donation gathering, trend wearing pillar of society. Her father was the typical hard working, complain about how your wife spends your money CEO of a Fortune 500 company.  No sisters or brothers unless you count the herd of Corgis that ruled her parents New York Apartment.

She thought of her lifestyle, the one that just drove her mother crazy. A career woman still struggling to make her place in the world of design. Mother did not understand why she wanted to live off her earnings and not her trust fund. The woman who wasn’t sure how to turn on a dishwasher would never understand the feeling of satisfaction to make it yourself, to earn it.

She sighed and, rolling ove.r she grabbed a pillow to hug. She did love her bed. It was one of those things that she saved a little bit out of each check to buy. It was very different than the stylish beds she had growing up. This was big and heavy with an old fashioned handmade quilt to snuggle under on cold nights. The quilt was expensive, but very worth money as she nestled underneath. She close her eyes and unbidden, her brain sprung into action, this time sending rapid, random thoughts through her head. Thoughts like, “Do ostriches cry?” flew through her head, finally succeeding in driving her from the bed in  defeat. No sleep for now.

Wrapped in her quilt she wandered through the apartment, stopping the kitchen to gaze into the refrigerator, as if it held  a  magical elixir of sleep. Perhaps it did. She spied the little bottle of wine cooler. She pulled it out and contemplated it before putting it back. Too much sugar. She opened a few cabinets. Nothing there. She knew there wasn’t. She thought of her sleeping pills. When her mother found out she had attacks of insomnia like this, she sprang into action. Finally something to do to help her daughter! She called and got a prescription for some fairly strong sleeping pills and another for anxiety. It certainly made mother feel better, but she had not yet taken either. Tonight, maybe she would. Maybe

She wandered onto her balcony. Another thing that she earned herself. An apartment with a wonderful view. It was small and overpriced but her balcony looked out over the busy,bustling even-at-this-hour heart of the City.  A chill reminded her that she was naked under her blanket and she pulled it closer. She sat on her little plastic chair and look out at the city, hoping to relax enough to sleep. Wednesday, she thought, always on Wednesday. She had to sleep or she would be a wreck tomorrow, again.

“Hello” A man’s deep dark voice cut through the night. She screamed and stood up and looked towards the other side of the balcony.
“Who are you?” she asked.

The man was cloaked in darkness and she could barely see him. It was like he was  shadow himself.  She wished she had a light. She glanced other sliding door, on the other side of that wall was the light switch. No way she could get there without getting closer  the man. The man on her balcony.

“Who are you?” she repeated “and how the hell you get up here?”

How DID he get here? She was sure her door was locked when she came home. Unless he was Spiderman, no way he climbed up or down. She was on the 17th floor of a 25 floor apartment.

She looked down, no phone, no weapon, except the little votive candle holder she had on the table. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. She picked it up and threatening to throw it she repeated again

“Who are you?”

The man move forward slightly coming out of the shadows. There was just enough light to see  that he was what many would call tall, dark and handsome. Handsome?  Now where did that come from. Heck, all she could see what that he was very pale with dark hair.

He nodded to her and said “My name is Dracula”