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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Horror
- Subject: Crime
- Published: 12/02/2019
You Were With Me
Born 1976, M, from Whitechapel, AustraliaHow many times has my phone rung tonight? Seven? Eight? The caller says things that fill me with dread but I keep answering. You’d think I’d tell someone about it but I don’t. It’s not like I’m alone: the room’s full of people. What about that guy? I could tell the guy wearing his sunglasses indoors like he’s a famous rapper. Hell, I could probably convince him to answer the damn thing, he’s so wasted. No, I feel more afraid amongst this swarm of sweaty, gyrating bodies. It’s like I’m on a train ride to hell and I’m screaming, but no one can hear me: they just want things to be normal. I like normal.
My bleary eyes lock onto the glowing screen again: unknown caller. I put the phone to my ear; its warmth makes me queasy. “Who is this?” The gravelly voice just drones on. I’m to be dismembered soon, it says. These people won’t stay forever: house parties come to an end, as does life itself. I’m still kind of out-of-it, but adrenaline makes me lucid. Too lucid. I want to run upstairs to my bed and pull the covers over my head. I hate this feeling of something coming that I can’t stop. We. Have. No. Control. Sunglasses is staring at me – I think.
The music pounds into my skull and rattles my ribs. There are flashes of light and the frozen retinal snap-shots of faces. Who hates me? Is this about that or the other thing? I feel like I'm about to be fed into a giant meat-grinder. No one knows. No one cares. Do I even care? I do. I want to live and drink and kiss strangers. Why is that guy putting his phone away just now? I stumble over. “Hey you! Whatswithyourphoneyoumakingprankcalls?” I know my words make no sense. The guy sneers and follows a bouncy girl into the toilet. I feel more alone than ever. I’m a cornflake in a giant bowl; when the milk comes, there’ll be no buffer.
Phone again. “I’m coming soon. I’m going to tear you apart.” I forget what I’m doing, then I lean toward the kitchen – gravity and forward momentum do the rest. There’s a group of girls doing shots out of my mom’s china teacups. I laugh and they let me know I’m a loser. I remember the lecture my parents gave me before they left for the weekend. I wished they’d taken me with them. The girls leave the room. I turn the light out. I don’t want to be prey.
The water from the tap tastes like rust. The fridge hums – I can hear it because someone’s turned the music off and people have started leaving. “You’ll be alone soon.” I put my phone on the dining table, face down. I feel like I’m in a movie. I like movies but not this kind. My phone chimes, but it’s the sound of a text. My parents are returning early. I smile. The irony of the one thing I was dreading, and all of that. They’ll be too late. My killer’s shadow spills out over the kitchen tiles like milk.
You Were With Me(Jason James Parker)
How many times has my phone rung tonight? Seven? Eight? The caller says things that fill me with dread but I keep answering. You’d think I’d tell someone about it but I don’t. It’s not like I’m alone: the room’s full of people. What about that guy? I could tell the guy wearing his sunglasses indoors like he’s a famous rapper. Hell, I could probably convince him to answer the damn thing, he’s so wasted. No, I feel more afraid amongst this swarm of sweaty, gyrating bodies. It’s like I’m on a train ride to hell and I’m screaming, but no one can hear me: they just want things to be normal. I like normal.
My bleary eyes lock onto the glowing screen again: unknown caller. I put the phone to my ear; its warmth makes me queasy. “Who is this?” The gravelly voice just drones on. I’m to be dismembered soon, it says. These people won’t stay forever: house parties come to an end, as does life itself. I’m still kind of out-of-it, but adrenaline makes me lucid. Too lucid. I want to run upstairs to my bed and pull the covers over my head. I hate this feeling of something coming that I can’t stop. We. Have. No. Control. Sunglasses is staring at me – I think.
The music pounds into my skull and rattles my ribs. There are flashes of light and the frozen retinal snap-shots of faces. Who hates me? Is this about that or the other thing? I feel like I'm about to be fed into a giant meat-grinder. No one knows. No one cares. Do I even care? I do. I want to live and drink and kiss strangers. Why is that guy putting his phone away just now? I stumble over. “Hey you! Whatswithyourphoneyoumakingprankcalls?” I know my words make no sense. The guy sneers and follows a bouncy girl into the toilet. I feel more alone than ever. I’m a cornflake in a giant bowl; when the milk comes, there’ll be no buffer.
Phone again. “I’m coming soon. I’m going to tear you apart.” I forget what I’m doing, then I lean toward the kitchen – gravity and forward momentum do the rest. There’s a group of girls doing shots out of my mom’s china teacups. I laugh and they let me know I’m a loser. I remember the lecture my parents gave me before they left for the weekend. I wished they’d taken me with them. The girls leave the room. I turn the light out. I don’t want to be prey.
The water from the tap tastes like rust. The fridge hums – I can hear it because someone’s turned the music off and people have started leaving. “You’ll be alone soon.” I put my phone on the dining table, face down. I feel like I’m in a movie. I like movies but not this kind. My phone chimes, but it’s the sound of a text. My parents are returning early. I smile. The irony of the one thing I was dreading, and all of that. They’ll be too late. My killer’s shadow spills out over the kitchen tiles like milk.
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Jason James Parker
10/26/2020Thank you, Jd. I thought I'd have a go at something a little more modern-slasher-style with this one. : )
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Aziz
04/24/2020Great job Jason. This piece really takes the reader to many worlds. This horror can reflect one's worries, illusions, past events or even ambitions.
Cordially
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Jason James Parker
04/24/2020Thank you very much for your comments, Aziz, and for taking the time to read my stories.
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Gail Moore
12/02/2019Wow, that’s very intense. Great job.
I see you are in Sydney. A bit Smokey at present.
It’s very hazey out on the harbour here with smoke drifting over the tazzie to Auckland :-)
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Jason James Parker
12/03/2019Thank you Gail. Yeah it's very thick at the moment (fires burning just down the coast a bit.) Sorry about the haze. I love NZ (the wife and I traveled from top to bottom many years ago).
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